The Man Who Shot Anton Havel
by Sierra Sutherwinds
Summary: FOR THE CHALLENGE OF WRITING A STORY BASED ON THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE. With Newkirk seriously wounded and a prisoner in custody, Carter's first mission in command seems doomed from the start. Will he have what it takes to ride the savage land.
1. Once Upon a Time in Stalag XIII

**_Disclaimers: _**_Hogan's Heroes characters are not mine. I don't profit from any of my stories whatsoever. Original characters are, for bad or for worse, entirely mine._

_**Time line:** I picture the HH in first or second season. However, there is a mention of the episode **The Gypsy** which was in season six. Kinch was not there anymore, but in my stories he is very much present. So, humor me on this one ;)_

_The titles of each chapter are based on actual Western movie titles. I will put the real title at the end of the chapter. I hope not run out of them before the story is over KMFC (keep my fingers crossed)_

_The story touches certain events on WWII that were kept quiet for most of the war. It does not mention any in particular but inevitably, it denounces the final solution ideology and other atrocities against other peoples besides the Jewish. The story does not have intentions of provoking controversy or offending any one. The theme is serious but it does not go beyond the fanfiction universe _

_**I'm responding to several challenges: 1. Write a story based on the movie The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962.) So if you haven't seen it, oops! It contains spoilers LOL. 2. Write a story like a Western. I'm sure there must be other challenges I touched but those are the main ones.  
**_

_Enjoy the story:  
_

_**THE MAN WHO SHOT ANTON HAVEL**_

_by Sierra Sutherwinds_

**I. _Once upon a time in Stalag XIII_**

Carter sat on the bench outside the recreation room. He contemplated the wooden toy in his hands for several minutes. "You won't defeat me this time. I'll get you. You'll see, I'll get you." He held the cone firmly in a vertical position, the ball hanging perpendicularly to the cup. He swung his arm and tossed the ball in the air. The trajectory was accurate, only the ball grazed the rim of the cup and fell to one side. "Shoot!" Carter let himself curse. He sighed and leaned his back against the wall.

"Still out of the loop?" Newkirk came to sit with him. His movements were slow and measured. His face was just recovering its natural color and his eyelids looked heavy and tired. He groaned. "And so, that's what old people look like, eh?"

"No, I think that's what _wounded_ people look like." Carter stared at him alarmed and angry. "You should be in bed. Cold air doesn't do any good to gun shots."

"And you should be in the rec room, getting your _good boy medal_."

Carter grimaced. "Don't call it that, please. It's not a medal... And I ain't a good boy." He tried the toy again and failed. "Damn! I'm not even good at this."

"Hey, don't take it out on the toy. People have been defying the science of the _Cup-and-Ball_ game for centuries." Newkirk took the toy and straightened up as much as his aching right side allowed him. "Here, one more time: keep the ball perpendicularly to the cup, then move your arm up and down. The ball bounces by itself, see?"

Carter saw the ball falling gently into the cup and shook his head. Damn Newkirk, his skills reached farther than card games and magic tricks. "It likes you better than me. You keep it."

"Oh, come on, Andrew, what's with the attitude? Did anything happen whilst I was unconscious?"

"No... It's just that... Oh, well, it's this." He pointed at the recreation room. "The party, you know... I'm not in the mood for it."

"For what? Hitler's birthday? Who isn't in the mood? It's going to be a blast! I thought you were excited preparing the decorations and all," Newkirk smiled despite the pain that began to pulsate with his breathing. "You finished setting the decorations, didn't you?"

"Oh, yeah, of course. They're definitely ready." He grinned, anticipating success. "It's that, the boys are doing this for me."

"Yes, and well deserved I must add." Newkirk stared at his friend. "Carter, don't be sad. You did what you had to do."

"But at what cost, Newkirk? Everything I am... was... is gone..." He rubbed his face with his hands. "And now they think I'm a hero. They're happy about what I did. Throwing a party and everything... Gosh... I don't feel like partying. What I did was awful, despicable. I feel so ashamed of myself."

"Give yourself a break will ya? It had to be done, there was no other way. No permanent harm done..." He felt short of breath all of a sudden. He put his hand on his right side and leaned forward.

"Newkirk!" Carter put one arm around him and helped him to straighten up. "Take it easy, please. We almost lost you once already."

Newkirk leaned his back against the wall; his eyes closed while he regained control. Slowly, he turned to Carter and smiled. "There you are, Andrew. You haven't gone anywhere. Nothing of you's gone..." He reached for the toy and put it in Carter's hands. "Sabina knew that. Remember?"

"Remember? I've been trying to forget," Carter shuddered. "I wish I could go back in time and erase what I did." He stared at the toy. Without really wanting, he began to recreate those memories in his mind. It had been almost a week but he remembered how everything had started shortly before that...

Oo-HH-oO

_**Two weeks ago**_

Hogan woke up in the dark. He had heard the trapdoor, or it had been a dream. He was not sure. He slid off his bunk, taking care of landing on his good leg. His sprained ankle still hurt after three days. Wilson had recommended a crutch but Hogan was too proud to admit defeat. If Newkirk could walk off a concussion and LeBeau could still make an omelet with one dislocated shoulder, Colonel Hogan could conquer one sprained ankle.

He went outside. His pace was slow but steady provided he could find furniture to lean on. LeBeau was sitting on his bunk, talking in whispers with Kinch. The sergeant turned to Hogan.

"They're not here yet," he said in a soft voice.

"What time is it?"

"Almost two thirty," LeBeau yawned. He stretched his right arm and a painful wrench reminded him of why his left arm was still on a sling. "You don't think something happened to them, Colonel? Maybe Newkirk decided to go for a drink after the mission and took Carter with him."

"In that case, some British corporal is going to die tonight." Hogan kept his voice down.

"They must be on their way, they can't screw things up more than three times in a row." Kinch chuckled.

"If we take into account that they screwed it up tonight already, I wouldn't be surprised if they don't want to come back right away." Hogan sighed. "Go back and wait for them in the tunnel."

Kinch turned at the same time that the trapdoor opened. Newkirk came up first, followed by Carter. Their smiling faces contrasted with the cold reception awaiting them.

"Hey, guys," Carter waved. "You didn't have to wait up for us."

"Well, we are. What happened to you?" LeBeau said.

"We had to work around several patrols. Nothing to brag about," Newkirk sighed.

"How was the mission?" Hogan asked. His eyes narrowed. "Any problems?"

Carter turned to Newkirk, who shrugged and shook his head. "Er... Well..." Carter said. "We got to the warehouse office. The safe box was exactly where the underground told us. Right, Newkirk?"

The Englishman nodded and smiled shyly. "Jolly good, indeed."

"Oh, Newkirk opened it in two seconds flat. New record, right, Newkirk? Ringing ears and all." He turned to his friend again.

"Marvelous."

"And?" Hogan crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well... We saw the papers, they were all there..." Carter cleared his throat. "I proceeded to take the pictures and you won't believe what..."

At this point, Kinch took a small camera out of his pocket and put it on the table. Hogan sat down and pushed it towards Carter. The sergeant smiled.

"Well, you know the rest of the story, I see," Carter sat in front of the colonel. "I think I left it on the table while I put on my coat. I suppose I forgot it."

"You suppose?" Hogan slammed his hand on the table. "Carter, what's the matter with you? One day, you forget the film; the next, you abandon the camera where anyone could find it; not to mention the blow-up fiasco three days ago." At the memory of that event, Hogan's ankle, LeBeau's shoulder and Newkirk's head began to hurt.

"I said I was sorry about that," Carter complained. "My watch was one minute fast when I set the detonators."

"At least, that time he didn't forget to set the detonators." Kinch grinned.

"You can make fun of it because you weren't there when we all flew around." LeBeau rubbed his shoulder.

"I still have that ringing in me ears and the gov'nor can barely walk-"

"I can walk. It hurts a little but I'm much better," Hogan said. "But the point is, Carter, you're giving new dimensions to the term _absent minded_" He turned to Newkirk. "And you. I thought you were cleverer than this, Newkirk. I want you two in my office, now!"

The few men that were still asleep woke up abruptly with the yelling and the slamming of the door. They saw Newkirk and Carter go reluctantly into Hogan's office and someone mumbled. _Dead men walking._

* * *

Hogan waited with his arms crossed over his chest until his men sat at the table. He clenched his teeth and limped to the window. Carter had never seen him that mad before; not at them, at least. For a moment, he felt as though he was back in High School waiting for the principal's reprimand.

"Would any of you explain to me what's going on here?" Hogan's voice was calm but far from friendly.

"I made a mistake... huge mistake. I'm really sorry," Carter said.

Hogan nodded and turned to Newkirk. "How about you?"

"Me? I did me part," he shrugged. "How would've I known-?"

"How? Do you have any concept of team work?" Hogan came closer. "That's why I send you in pairs, we watch each other's back. It's not just to make it back in one piece, it's carrying out the mission. Together."

"I read the documents. I can recite them to you if you want to," Newkirk said.

"I figured you would do that. You'll write them down later. But that's not the point." Hogan glowered at them. "If you don't start working as a team, I don't know if I can trust you together anymore."

"What are you saying, sir? Are you going to separate us?" Carter asked.

"That's fine with me," Newkirk leaned his elbows on the table. "I don't trust Carter very much anyway."

"Hey, I resent that. I thought we were friends."

"And we are. But in a mission, I'd rather take LeBeau or Kinch to watch me back."

"Oh, now you tell me-"

"Well, I should've said it before going out tonight. Two hours in that bleeding muddy road for nothing! At least, we could've had a drink in town on our way back. But no, Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes here wanted to come right away."

"Oh, yeah? What about the patrols and the dogs? If we'd have stayed in town they might have found us and-"

"Enough from you two!" Hogan slammed the table with an open hand. "I won't say it again. If you can't put your act back together I'll separate this duo for good."

"No problem from me, Gov'nor."

"I mean it, one of you will leave Barrack Two. This camp is full of competent and very skilful men. I'll find a replacement."

Newkirk and Carter frowned at Hogan. For a moment, no one dared to talk.

"Do you mean," Carter finally stepped forward, "that you're kicking one of us out of the team,... sir?"

Hogan realized what he had just said. He also realized that he did not mean that at all. But it was too late to take back his words. Maybe all they needed was a good shake up. He decided to play along.

"It's up to you, guys. I won't talk about this anymore." Hogan straightened up and saluted. "Dismissed."

* * *

LeBeau and Kinch were still up waiting for their friends to come out of Hogan's office. The long faces were enough to see that they already knew what had happened in there.

"These ruddy walls are like paper, aren't they?" Newkirk jumped up to his bunk. "Well, that's it, one of us is moving out."

"It's not that final," Kinch smiled. "You just have to be more careful."

"I am careful," Carter felt compelled to defend himself. "I never have problems when going out with you or LeBeau."

"So, I'm the problem, is that it?" Newkirk raised his voice and the others shushed him.

"It's not that, Newkirk," LeBeau said. "It's just that sometimes you rush to do your job and-"

"And what?"

"It wouldn't harm to look back once in a while and see if your partner has forgotten his camera," Kinch said with a smile.

"Oroit, point taken," Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Blimey, Carter. I'm sorry, I'll remind you to be more bleeding careful next time." He lied down and pulled his blanket over his head.

"Go to sleep, Andrew," Kinch patted him on the back. "Things will look better in the morning."

"Oue," LeBeau yawned. "Faites des beaux rêves, mes enfants."

Carter remained sitting in the dark. He was ashamed of his own clumsiness and how much it had begun to affect the missions. It was time for him to pay more attention and be more responsible. There must be a way to show his friends he was trustworthy. He would not be the one leaving the barrack, that was for sure.

Oo-HH-oO

The next three days, nothing important happened. But before it began to look like a vacation, London sent another of their urgent messages.

Kinch came up the ladder to join his friends. Hogan was right behind him. Neither of them looked happy at all.

"In my office," Hogan said.

"Do we have a job, Colonel?" LeBeau asked when they had all sat down.

"I think so." Hogan read one name. "Vasile Dalibor, born in Zagreb, eighteen ninety-three. Member of the Nazi Party since nineteen thirty-four. He worked with the Action Groups, also known as _Mobile Killing Units_."

"What's that? Sounds nasty." Carter frowned.

Hogan glanced at Kinch as though they were holding a horrible secret. "They... kill enemies of the regimen, Carter... anyone who doesn't fit under the master race standards." He read from the clipboard again. "Dalibor left that division of the Party after six years. For the last three, he has been serving as a double agent, working for the Party and sending valuable information to the Allies."

"Wait a minute, we have a war criminal working for us?" Newkirk shook his head. "That's just marvelous."

"We're at war, Newkirk, we have to use whatever is within our reach to tip the balance in our favor."

"And what's so valuable that can make us obviate the crimes and pact with the criminal?"

"He's been secretly collecting blueprints and other literature about new equipment and weaponry, plus locations of clandestine factories. He has managed to send most of it to London. But recently, he was exposed and sent to the Gestapo. He's currently in prison at Lorenz where they have their local headquarters. They're preparing his transfer to Berlin within the next twelve hours. We have to take him from there as soon as possible, transport him to a secret airstrip near _Schienbein Stadt_ about two hours from Lorenz and wait for an RAF plane that will pick him up tomorrow morning, at three hundred hours and ten." He looked at his men. "It's a two-man job."

LeBeau's and Newkirk's eyes followed the colonel as he limped around the office. Carter relaxed in his seat. He was almost sure that Hogan would not pick him.

Hogan stopped to confront his men. "Carter, do you think you can take this mission?"

"Me, Colonel?" His eyes opened wide. "Of course I can, but are you sure?"

"With half my team incapacitated, I don't have many options, do I?" He smirked and softened his tone. "It's only an extraction and delivery operation. Don't expect you to get in any trouble. Take Newkirk with you."

"Take him? As if I'm in charge?" Carter narrowed his eyes warily.

"You're the sergeant, Carter." Hogan sat at the table. "Can you manage that, Corporal Newkirk?"

The Englishman smirked. "I'll behave."

"Go and get ready, you have to leave in five hours." Hogan looked at his watch. "I'll brief you on the details later on." He waited until Carter left the room with Newkirk and LeBeau. "I won't regret my decision, will I?"

"Not a bit, Carter has potential. He just needs to focus," Kinch said. "Newkirk will do his part too."

"I just hope they don't misplace the man before the plane arrives." He sat down and rubbed his ankle. "I think I could go myself-"

"I don't mean to be disrespectful, sir, but you would not have a chance if something went wrong and you had to make a run for it." Kinch shook his head. "You'll have to sit with me and hope for the guys to do their part without much trouble."

"I don't know how you stand the waiting, Kinch. It kills me every time." He stood up but had to sit down again. "Especially now that I'm limited to this space."

"Well, you can go outside now that we've convinced Klink that we're prone to accidents." Kinch chuckled. "Don't worry, Colonel, I think Newkirk is more than willing to take his responsibilities to the letter. Carter needs to regain his confidence too."

"Yes, I think I've punished him enough. Besides, Newkirk is with him. He'll do fine." Hogan said.

TBC

* * *

_Actual movie title: **Once Upon a Time in the West (1968)**_

_Schienbein Stadt: Shinbone Town. That's the name of the town where _**_The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance_**_ takes place. __ I translated it into German to keep the spirit of the movie. _

_Please take your time and drop me a line. I appreciate your help on spelling, grammar and such if you really must. But my main concern is to know that you can understand the story, that there are not barriers of language whatsoever. If I left anything without a real explanation, please feel free to ask and I'll put it on a note in my next entry.  
_


	2. Way Out West

**II. _Way out West_**

Newkirk drove to the Gestapo HQ at Lorenz. Rains were stronger the last half of the fall and there were not many people in the streets. "This is going to be as easy as walking in the park in London on Monday mornings."

"Not many Londoners walk in the park on Mondays, eh?" Carter joked.

"Traffic is fast. It will give us a good margin to get to the next stop." Newkirk slowed down. "All right, you are the major but I'll do the talking."

"No problem here." Carter said. "Let's do it fast, I don't want to spend more time than necessary in that place."

They entered the building, ready with their usual number. Newkirk barked at everybody to stand at attention to salute Carter. The man in the front desk even smiled at them. Carter raised an eyebrow as a sign of disapproval to everything he saw. Newkirk yelled orders here and there until everyone assumed it was a very important matter.

While Newkirk explained their visit, Carter looked around. There were only five uniformed men in the room. There was also the cleaning lady and the handyman doing the windows. They both did not take their eyes off Newkirk and Carter.

["But Central Headquarters just confirmed that someone had been sent for the prisoner. How come you are here so soon?"]

["Bad weather."] Newkirk grinned. ["Most people don't like to drive under this conditions. The road was rather clear."]

["I'll call them now to tell them that you're already here."] The man reached for the phone when one fist slamming on the table made him jump.

"Das führt zu nichts! _This leads nowhere_" Carter yelled.

Newkirk and the man at the desk turned at once. Carter, all in character, grinned.

"Ich immer das letze Wort habe! _I always have the last word_" He glanced at Newkirk to take it from there.

["Herr Major is a bit impatient. See? We've been driving all day long. The papers are in order, we need to take the prisoner into custody and get out of here before the storm arrives."]

The man at the desk took a look at the papers. ["I understand... Well, since transfer papers are signed... I think I can phone the central office later.] Warten Sie hier, bitte. _Wait here, please._" He went through a door on their left.

Newkirk and Carter exchanged glances. Things were going fine. Even if the officer made the phone call, they could put a good distance between themselves and the Gestapo. Carter was about to suggest that Newkirk went outside and get the engine started when one violent blast sent them flying in opposite directions.

Carter's sight was still blurred when he got up and looked around. He was not sure of how much time he had been on the floor. There was smoke everywhere. He stumbled on the debris and scattered furniture. Some guards were unconscious and others were running around with their rifles ready. He steadied himself against the wall. He looked for Newkirk but he was nowhere around.

Carter walked among the debris looking around intently. "Newkirk!" He coughed. People ran by without paying any attention to him. "Newkirk, where are you!"

"Over here!" Newkirk called from the door to the stairs. He kept his eyes on the hallway.

"What's going on?" Carter asked.

"I don't know but let's take advantage of it. The cells must be that way," he said. "Where's your gun?"

"Jeez! I think I lost it in the explosion," Carter turned around to avoid Newkirk's disapproving look.

The Englishman looked down at an unconscious soldier. He bent down and picked up a pistol. He handed it to Carter. "Here. Stay close," he said drawing his own weapon.

They walked down the hallway calling Vasile Dalibor's name.

"_Hier!"_

They followed the sound of the voice to one of the last cells on their right. Newkirk peered inside. "Do you speak English?"

The man nodded.

"_The Lion and the Unicorn were fighting for the 'town',"_ Carter said.

"_Crown,_ Carter," Newkirk corrected.

"_The Lion beat the Unicorn all around the town."_ Dalibor confirmed the password.

"We're your ride to the airport, sir." Newkirk smiled as he opened the cell door.

"A plane will be waiting to take you to London tomorrow morning." Carter looked around with a watchful eye.

"London?" A tall, slim man stepped out of the cell. His eyes were unreadable but he smiled when said that word.

There was something about that man that Carter did not like. It might be the cheap suit that made him look like a salesman, or the way he combed what was left of his hair. Or maybe, it was that smile frozen on his face and that gave him an air of superiority.

Before he could take two steps forward, Newkirk pointed his gun at him. "You understand that you're now a prisoner of the Allies, do you?"

"I'm not running away anymore."

The confusion was general and they did not have problems getting out. Carter did not see anything wrong with running into the cleaning lady outside. The poor woman had been lucky to get out of there before the explosion, Carter thought. However, his perception changed when she began to yell at them. The man they had seen washing the windows came running after them. He was very tall and looked rather strong. He threw himself on Newkirk and both fell downstairs, fighting for Newkirk's gun.

Carter did not know what to do at first. With one man in custody, he could not engage in a fight. "Newkirk! Can't help you! Finish it right now! We don't have time for this!"

The Englishman pushed the man off his chest and hit him on the jaw with his gun. He got up and glared at Carter. "Next time, you do the fighting!"

["There they are!"] One guard shouted.

They ran to their car and took off.

Carter did not breathe until they were some distance away. "Boy, what was that? Someone actually attacked the Gestapo HQ?"

"Let's count our blessings." Newkirk looked in the rear mirror at Carter and Dalibor. "What about those lines you dropped over there, Carter? Your German is actually improving." He smiled.

"Oh, it was something I memorized from a booklet for tourists that I picked up the other day at the bookstore," Carter said.

Newkirk stared at Dalibor. "You would not happen to know about that bombing at the Gestapo, would you?"

"I'm required by many." Dalibor shrugged. "It wouldn't surprise me that it was all for me."

"Yeah, how about the man that attacked Newkirk? One of your admirers?"

"Those were Romany people," Dalibor said. "They've been on my back for a while. If you hadn't come when you did, I'd probably be dead by now."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" Newkirk kept an eye on the rear mirror. One black car was getting closer. "Hold on, gentlemen, we've got a tail." He sped up.

They left town and entered a rural zone. Newkirk took the first exit with the Gestapo following closely.

"Those boys never give up." Carter felt his heart beating fast. He did not want to know what would happen if those Nazis started to shoot. He clenched the door handle with everything he had. Two seconds later, bullets began to fly.

"Now it's a good time to answer the fire, Carter!" Newkirk yelled above the cacophony.

"Er... I dropped it here, somewhere."

"Carter!"

"Sorry, you sped up so abruptly, I lost balance..." Carter cursed quietly at his own clumsiness.

Newkirk took his own pistol and gave it to Carter. "Here! Shoot through the window but be careful, don't put yourself on the line of fire."

"What? They're shooting to kill!" Carter complained as he rolled down the glass. He fired a couple of shots and ducked. "I hate this, I hate this!"

"Easy, mate. Just keep them busy." Newkirk kept an eye on the mirror. He stirred every time he heard them shoot. The last bang came straight through the rear window. "Everybody down!" Newkirk shouted as the car took a curve.

Shattered glass flew everywhere. Newkirk instinctively hit the brakes and the car overturned. It felt as though they were flying and Carter closed his eyes anticipating a crash landing. He just prayed for it to be quick.

TBC

* * *

_I know only a couple of lines in German, I hope these ones are on the right track. The rest of the conversation is in brackets for obvious reasons._

_Thank you for your reviews and interest on following the story. :)_

_**Way Out West (1937)**  
_


	3. They Died With The Boots On

**III. _They died with their boots on_**

"Carter?... Carter... Carter!"

"Here...eh... nothing broken..." Carter's voice was shaky as he tried to steady his breathing. Newkirk did not sound any better. He got concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Jolly good, yes," Newkirk said with a sigh. "Can you move?"

Carter looked up at the seat above him. He suddenly realized they were out of the road, upside down on an open field. He moved his legs one at the time, nothing was broken indeed. The pistol was still in his hand and this time, he would not let it go. Slowly, he came out through the window. "I'm out!"

Newkirk pushed the door with his feet. "It's stuck! How about Dalibor? Is he still alive?"

Carter began to remember their mission. He ran to the side of the car where he had seen their passenger the last time. "Dalibor? Are you okay?" He reached for the man's sleeve and pulled him out.

Dalibor came to when he was half way through the window and crawled out on his own. He was too groggy to do anything else. He sat up near the car and held his head in his hand. "You call that a landing?" He chuckled.

"Write a complaint letter to me boss," Newkirk yelled. "What happened with our tail? Last time they shot they were not too close."

"We lost them in the curve. They're probably still waiting for us to fall from the sky... We're lucky to be alive," Carter said. He held the door handle and pulled with all his might. Newkirk pushed from inside until the door yielded. "Can you come outside?"

Newkirk crawled to the ground and lied flat on his back for a moment. "That was brilliant!" He giggled looking at the sky. "And I think it's going to rain. We'd better get moving before those Gestapo blokes come looking for what's left of us."

"How far from the rendezvous point? Do you think we can make it on foot?" Carter sat down next to him.

"Two hours. By car." Newkirk sat up. "Maybe we could walk to the next town and see if they have wheels available."

"Next town is _Schienbein Stadt_ , three hours walk. It's abandoned, there's nothing there. It's a ghost town," Dalibor said.

"A ghost town? Like in Western movies?" Carter smiled. "That would be cool to see... if we didn't have so much to do now-" He was getting up when a bullet whistling from the road grazed his cap. "What the h-!"

"Carter, duck!" Newkirk rolled over his stomach and covered his head with both hands. "Dalibor, take cover!" He crawled to one side of the car. "Carter, watch him!"

Carter dragged Dalibor back into the car to hide under a blanket. He peeped outside, with his pistol ready. Then, he realized that Newkirk was out there, unarmed.

Three uniformed Germans ran towards them, with their weapons aiming at the one who was more exposed. Carter could not understand all the yelling but the body language told him that Newkirk would be dead soon if he did not reveal himself and Dalibor.

"Wo ist Dalibor!" One said before kicking Newkirk on the ribs.

The Englishman rolled and crawled away. He managed to get on his knees and raised his arms.

"Ich weiß nichts! Ich weiß nichts!" He shouted.

One of the guards put his the muzzle of his rifle on Newkirk's forehead and said something else. Carter's heart accelerated. He caught some words and panicked. The soldier was counting to 3. Carter closed his eyes. He had to do something before they opened fire.

"Drei!"

"Stop!"

Newkirk and the Germans turned their heads to the car. Carter walked towards them, hands up, ready to surrender.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"It's okay, we'll work around this." Carter stopped when they aimed the rifles at him. "What good would it do if they kill you?"

"You're crazy! They'll kill us all!" Newkirk tried to get up but one of the guards pushed him down with his boot.

Carter reached for the pistol he had hidden behind his back. He clenched it with both hands, ready to shoot "Stop!" he yelled. "I can take at least one of you with me!"

Before the soldiers could react, more shooting exploded around them. This time, Carter did not wait for Newkirk to tell him what to do. He ran to the nearest tree trunk and hid behind it. He covered his head and closed his eyes until the noise stopped. The seconds seemed like minutes. He got up slowly when he felt it was safe.

The three soldiers were dead on the ground. All was quiet as about six heavily armed men began to surround the area. Carter kept his hands up and slowly walked towards them. He looked around for Newkirk.

"Over here." the Englishman came out of the car followed by Dalibor. "Don't make sudden moves, I don't think they know we're friends."

Carter remembered that they were dressed as German soldiers. "Do not shoot!" He smiled. "American. American!"

One man snatched the pistol off his hand. Carter stepped back. They did not look like Germans. They had dark hair and tanned skin. Most of them wore bandanas under gray berets and they looked angry... very angry.

"Brilliant, what if they hate Americans too?" Newkirk placed himself next to Carter. He stumbled slightly.

"Are you okay?"

"Smacked and kicked. Nothing new," Newkirk shrugged. "Hello, any one here speaks English?"

Dalibor stepped forward and all the rifles aimed at him. He talked to them in some dialect. One man with a scar above his left eyebrow engaged in an argument with him. Then, the man turned to Newkirk and Carter.

"You may go!" He signed for the others to leave them alone.

"Hey, what about him?" Carter asked pointing at Dalibor.

"He stays."

"But he's our prisoner." He walked towards the man who had spoken to them. Someone put the mouth of his rifle under Carter's nose.

"Easy, now," Newkirk did not let them see his apprehension as he laid one hand on the rifle and pushed it gently to the ground. "You just saved us from the bad guys. Can't we be friends?"

"We don't have friends!" The man with the scar snapped. "You'd better leave if you don't want to die with him."

"May I know why he has to die?" Carter asked.

"No!"

"They blame me for their bad luck," Dalibor grinned.

"Quiet!" One bearded man hit him on the ribs with the back of his rifle.

Dalibor was on the ground when the man cocked his rifle and aimed at the back of his neck. Carter was sure they were going to shoot him right in front of them.

"No, wait!" Carter shouted and ran towards them.

Newkirk moved to hold him back and one shot stopped time right there.

As if going on slow motion, Carter turned to see Newkirk behind him, staring intently at him. His eyes opened wide as he tried to say something. He pressed his left hand against his right side under his ribs and blood began to flow. He fell down on his knees and Carter came to catch him just before he fell face down on the ground.

"Newkirk! Please talk to me!" Carter felt his friend's breathing on his neck. Newkirk's hand clenched on Carter's sleeve. "It's okay, it's okay. I got you."

The man with the scar turned to the one who had opened fire and slapped him across the mouth. He yelled at him and then, he walked towards Carter and Newkirk. "I apologize." He crouched in front of them. "He just saw the uniform. He thought you were trying to escape."

"Couldn't he have yelled or something?" Carter held Newkirk's head against his shoulder. His eyes were open but unfocused. "What now? You're taking that man just like that?"

"We've been after him for almost three years. Today was our only chance to get him back. You came in a bad moment." He examined Newkirk's wound. "It looks bad." He looked up at his men. "Victor! Your _diklo_!"

Victor took out his head scarf and handed it to him. The man with the scar tied up the scarf around Newkirk's torso. "Hold it tight against the wound. There is a police post about half an hour in that direction. You might find medical help there."

"They'll shoot us as spies before we cross the door! Newkirk won't last a thirty-minute walk!" Carter glared. "You must help us now!"

Newkirk began to draw back. He sat up and took a deep breath. "Don't... need... them... I'll walk..."

He grabbed Carter's arm and pushed himself up. The sergeant could not do much to stop him. He got up too and steadied his friend as well as he could.

"Your friend is as stubborn as a Romany." The man chuckled.

"Virgil!" One of the men on the rear row called him. There was more verbal exchange.

"My brother over there is a better man than I am. He wants you to come with us," said the man with the scar.

Carter warily nodded at their benefactor. "I do appreciate your generosity, sir."

"His name is Eloi. Don't speak English. I'm Virgil Stelam." He grabbed Newkirk's right arm while Carter pulled the left arm over his shoulder. "Don't thank us just yet. You might regret it later."

"Come, Newkirk, it's all right," Carter whispered in his friend's ear.

They got in a small car and headed north over an adjacent road leading towards the mountain.

tbc

_**The Died With Their Boots On (1941)**_


	4. A Bullet for the Corporal

**_Warning:_**_ I wrote this story after having heard and read about the atrocities against certain peoples especially in Central Europe. I did not put graphic descriptions but from this chapter, you are warned that the plot becomes a little dark and sad in some aspects. There is also description of treatment of wounds, a little of blood here and there... It might not be much for most of us but I suppose I have to say it anyway. Better safe than sorry ;)_

_Most of the OC speak English as a second language, so__ as expected,__ they have flaws in their speech that might be intentional. The typos and other mistakes in descriptions etc, are not intentional and therefore, subject to correction. LOL  
_

**IV. _A Bullet for the Corporal_**

The sun was coming down fast as the storm set in. It had not been more than two hours since Carter and Newkirk had left but Hogan had begun to worry already. He paced around his office, dragging his injured foot, and then, after the lightning began, he went to pace in the tunnel.

"I just need you to ease my mind, Kinch. Tell me that everything is going according to plan."

"It looks fine from here." Kinch took his clipboard. "_Tinkerbell_'s ETA is in eleven hours. Newkirk and Carter must arrive to rendezvous point within half an hour. All they'll have to do then is hide and wait."

"I hope Newkirk has taken his deck of cards with him," Hogan chuckled.

"Well, waiting with Carter is everything but boring, they'll find something to keep themselves busy with."

"Of course. I don't know why I worry so much. Must be the weather. I feel like the unexpected is about to happen..." Hogan nodded. "I'll be upstairs... drinking coffee."

Kinch smiled. It was going to be a long night until their friends confirmed their arrival. There was little they could do but covering Newkirk and Carter's absence. As hard as that sounded, sitting and waiting was even harder. He stayed in the tunnel a little longer. At least, if there were news, he would be the first to know.

Oo-HH-oO

The ride felt like an eternity to Carter. He kept his hand over Newkirk's wound but it was still bleeding. By the time the car stopped, Newkirk was in real pain. Two men helped him out but as soon as his feet touched the ground, he called Carter to his side.

The car parked in front of an old two-story house, in the middle of a farm. Carter counted the steps from the gate to the main door. He had to put his mind on something practical like numbers to avoid panicking. Besides the six men that had ambushed them on the road, there were four more in the house. All of them had rifles and pistols; nothing good from Carter's point of view.

"Where's Dalibor?" Newkirk asked him.

"Right behind us," Carter held his friend straight. "Just a few more feet, Newkirk. We're almost there."

"Let's stay together," he whispered.

Two women were waiting inside the house. They were surprised to see these outsiders in Gestapo uniforms. Virgil's brother went ahead to talk to the women. Carter supposed he would tell them what they really were so they would not tear their heads off.

Apparently, Dalibor did not deserve such deference. As soon as the women saw him, they began to yell in their own dialect. Two other women came downstairs, one of them carrying a gun. The men had to stop her before she shot Dalibor right there. He seemed not to care about them; he just grinned in a defiant attitude.

Virgil pushed him into a corner and turned to the woman. They talked some more in the dialect that Carter could not recognize. But from the gesticulation, he guessed that they were not happy at all.

"Carter-" Newkirk whispered before losing balance. Carter held him the best he could but this time, his friend was actually passing out.

Virgil helped to put him in an armchair. The woman came to examine the wound. She glared at Virgil and went on yelling at him.

"It wasn't me! Gustav got nervous!" he yelled back in English. Then, he turned to Carter and pointed at the woman. "My sister, Milena. She's a nurse. She will take care of your friend."

"You are not supposed to be here and dressed like this." She glared at Carter while opening Newkirk's coat. Under it, the blood had covered the scarf and most of his white shirt. "Virgil! Get some clean shirts for them before the children see them."

The Englishman yanked away. "We've g-got to go..." He gasped for air as he tried to get up.

Milena checked his pulse. "He's going into shock." She called two of the men and gave them instructions. Then, she talked to Carter. "We'll put him in a bed down the hall. He needs to lie down."

Newkirk shook his head. "Carter, Dalibor..., don't leave him alone..."

"He won't go anywhere." Carter helped him to get up. "We'll see to you first, okay?"

They passed through the place where they did the laundry into a small room that in former times must have been the pantry. There, the men prepared one cot by the wall with one blanket and one pillow. Newkirk clenched his teeth as he lied down. He was not the kind of man who used to complain but the struggle with the pain had left him exhausted.

"C-Carter, you must go-" His teeth chattered.

"Enough, Newkirk, I won't talk to you about that right now." Carter turned as Milena came back, water and bandages.

"Remove his boots," she told Carter.

"My knife..."

"Got it," he said reaching into Newkirk's right boot. "I'll keep it in a safe place."

"We don't have antibiotics or painkillers. This is going to hurt. Sorry," she said unbuttoning Newkirk's shirt. She grabbed his chin to get his attention. "You must not move. Shall I tie you up?"

If Newkirk was scared he did not show it. Carter almost grinned to see him shake his head in a resolute manner. The Englishman reached for his friend's hand and clenched his teeth. He would not even scream.

Milena called for a light, and a girl came in with a kerosene lamp. She was not older than twelve, with long black hair combed in two braids, and was dressed in old jeans and a wool sweater. She climbed to one side of the bed and observed attentively while the woman worked on the wound. Her eyes, dark and round, turned to Newkirk, who was struggling to stay still.

"It's almost done," she told him with a gentle smile.

Newkirk opened his eyes and grinned. "You speak good English," he whispered.

"Almost all of us do. It's hard to survive with the Romany language alone." Milena said without stopping. "This is Sabina. Her mother was British."

"She speaks better than you, Newkirk," Carter joked.

"Are you British too?" the girl asked.

"L-London..."

"My _Dai_ was from London," the girl said.

"Mine was from Wales." Newkirk gasped as Milena's knife bit more deeply into his flesh.

Despair clutched at Carter's heart. Neither the smell nor the sight of blood bothered him, but his friend's suffering made him sick. Newkirk was in pain and there was nothing he could do to help him. "What's a _Dai_?" He asked as a way of putting his mind and Newkirk's on something else.

"Mother..." Milena, Newkirk and the girl said at the same time.

The girl laughed and said something in her dialect. Milena nodded and smiled for the first time since they had met her.

"She says that you are a very clever _Gadjo._" She touched the bullet and Newkirk twitched. "Hold him still," she said to Carter.

He placed himself at the head of the cot and pinned down Newkirk's shoulders. "Grab my arms and don't mind squeezing them as hard as you can." He kept his confident tone. "Sabina? Newkirk here has a very good memory, you know? He can name all S_now White's_ seven dwarfs with the color of their tunics and all, right, Newkirk?"

"What?" Newkirk frowned.

Carter felt he had his friend's attention and signed for Milena to go on. "C'mon, start with the one that Kinch said was named after you... _Grumpy..." _

Sabina giggled.

"Bloody funny!-" Newkirk was caught off guard and almost screamed.

"What color was Grumpy's tunic?"

"Red..." Newkirk said between his teeth. "Doc's too..."

"_Dopey?_"

"Green..., C-Carter," he gasped when Milena touched the tender skin. "Sleepy's green...Bashful, Sneeze and Happy were in brown..." he said in one rushed breath.

Milena pulled the bullet out. She quickly cleaned and bandaged the wound.

Newkirk took a deep breath and loosened his grip on Carter's arms. He opened his eyes and saw his friend almost as pale as he was. He smiled. "LeBeau said that Dopey looks just like you..."

Milena shook her head and wiped her brow with her apron. "Your friend is very tough. For a Gadjo. Anyone else would have passed out with less than this." She got up and picked up her things. "Keep him warm. Don't let him move. We don't have sutures and if the wound begins to bleed again, he might die." She shook her head. "Without medicine for infection, he'll be lucky if he survives anyway."

Carter nodded. His brain was still on neutral speed and he could not think clearly. "Thank you, Ma'am." That was all he could come up with. "Boy, that was really intense. I can't imagine myself doing something like that in a million years... Are you a doctor?"

"A nurse, back in my hometown." Milena smirked. "Now we move too much to keep a steady job anywhere."

"The man... what's his name?... Virgil? He said he has been chasing Dalibor for three years..." Newkirk said.

"We almost lost that devil today when you showed up at the Gestapo headquarters." She went to wash her hands in a sink nearby.

"Newkirk, she's the cleaning lady!" Carter said. He turned to her. "You yelled at the guards, almost got us killed!"

"I was warning Anton. We were there all morning waiting for the right moment to attack." Milena explained patiently. "We didn't expect someone else to come up with the same idea."

"The explosives, and the man cleaning the windows," Carter said. "The underground didn't warn us about it."

"We're not underground. We're Romany people." She turned to Newkirk. "The man you knocked down over there is our leader, Anton Havel. He is not happy with you, Gadjo."

"Me? He threw the first punch." Newkirk made an attempt to sit up. Pain pierced his side. He moaned and fell on his back.

"Lie down. I told you not to move. Sleep and gather strength." Milena headed for the door. "Supper will be ready soon. Anton will talk to you then," she said to Carter before going away with the girl.

"Romany? What's that? And what did she call you?" Carter said.

"Gadjo. That's what they call the outsiders, the ones who are not Romany... They're gypsies, Carter." Newkirk said. "People with their own language, their own culture, their own law. We might be in trouble."

"Gypsies? They don't look like gypsies. They are dressed like-"

"Normal people?" Newkirk shrugged. "They are normal people, but don't mess with their codes. They are quite serious about those."

"Don't get it. If they're fighting the Nazis, we're on the same side, aren't' we?"

"Romany are on their own side. They'll help us as long as they need us," Newkirk smirked. "But, now that they have Dalibor, I don't think we're relevant anymore."

"What do you think they want him for?"

"Who knows? From what the gov'nor read about him in his younger years, the bloke wasn't what we would call an altar boy. They must be holding some grudge against him," Newkirk said. "Whatever it is, I don't think they're are going to let him leave with us."

"What do we do, then? They outnumber us, got all the weapons; if they want Dalibor there is little we can do." He noticed he was shaking almost as much as Newkirk. "This is what you call a _stinky winky_ situation, eh?"

Newkirk chuckled. "Sticky wicket, you mean." Another wave of pain took him by surprise.. He clenched his teeth to suppress a scream. "Blimey!"

Carter touched his shoulder. "Newkirk-"

"I'm all right... it hurts a bit... Don't make me laugh." Newkirk blinked in pain. "We'll think of something, Carter. Go and talk to them. Try not to reveal much of our organization but find out what they are up to." He closed his eyes and exhaled. "Just keep focused, all right?"

"I'll be all eyes and ears. Don't you worry about anything. I'm in charge, remember?"

Newkirk tried to smile, but it caused him terrible discomfort.

"I don't think I should leave you alone, though-"

"I'll be fine. It's just a scratch... Flesh wound... I've just got to rest, all right?" He kept smiling until Carter left the room. Then, he shuddered in pain. He tried to relax but this turn of events was unexpected. If he did not pull through fast, Carter would be alone to face whatever was coming their way.

TBC

* * *

_**A Bullet for the General (1966)**_

_The Romany words come from Romany websites. They're probably from different regions so, I apologize if their meaning is not accurate._

_Thank you for your reviews. They're always encouraging and fun to read! I'm glad you like the story so far ;)**  
**_


	5. Ride Beyond Vengeance

**V. _Ride__ Beyond Vengeance_**

Carter entered the kitchen trying to look friendly. All the faces turned to him. Their eyes were impossible to read, but Carter interpreted every move as hostile against him. The men sat at the table while Milena and another woman prepared and served the food. At the head of the table, there was one man speaking his mind very aloud. He must be in his early fifties, Carter reckoned; and he was powerfully built.

"Oh, there you are!" The man grinned when his baritone voice made Carter jump. Then, his expression hardened. "Why is he still dressed like that? Woman! Get him decent clothes! That uniform insults this house."

Carter followed Milena upstairs to one of the main rooms.

"I'm so sorry, with all that has happened, I didn't notice..." Carter said politely while the woman looked into the armoire.

"It's all right, I sent Virgil for the clothes and then, I completely forgot about it," she smiled shyly. She handed him a pair of pants and a brown shirt. "I'll leave a shirt for your friend downstairs. The bathroom is down the hallway. Last door on your right."

Carter nodded and she left. He walked to the end of the hallway and turned. Now he was not sure if she had meant his right coming or going. He tried one door but it was locked.

"Wer ist da?_ Who's there?_"

Carter recognized that voice. "Hey, Dalibor, is that you?"

"Jah, can you take me out? They locked the door!"

"Sorry, I can't do that right now. But we're thinking of something. Please, be patient."

"Patient? These people are going to kill me. I'm paying your Government with my knowledge, I trust you to take me out of here!"

"We will." Carter resented Dalibor's tone. If he had felt sympathy for the man, it was slowly fading away. "I'll be back later, okay? Keep quiet."

He found the bathroom and changed his clothes. The shirt was wide on the shoulders and the pants big around the waist. He tightened them with his belt. These Romany guys seemed to be really big, he thought.

The welcoming was warmer this time. The loudest man grinned again and offered Carter a chair next to him. He was taller than Carter had reckoned at the Gestapo HQ. Not fat but muscular, with big hands and a big moustache that curled upwards with his smile.

"You're a very little man," he said before Carter sat down. "Virgil says you're Americans?"

"I am, yes. My friend is British." He smiled and took a sip of the soup in front of him. There was not much food at the table and Carter felt bad. They were probably giving him the last they had.

"And what were an American and an Englishman doing dressed like Nazis at the Gestapo Headquarters?"

"I-I'm afraid we can't talk about classified information... See? We work with the Allied Intelligence and..."

"Spies? Are you spies? Or saboteurs? Do you work with the Maquis or German resistance?"

"Er- well, we don't subscribe directly to any group, we are just...the good guys."

"Good guys? Like in John Wayne movies? Cowboys and Indians, eh?" The man laughed. "Good guys always wear white hats, no?"

"Yes," Carter nodded. The man scared him. He could hardly wait to finish his supper and run away from him.

"My name is Anton, Anton Havel." He pronounced his name with pride. "I'm the _Bulibasha, _the chief of this tribe. If you need anything, you come to me."

"Andrew Carter, nice to meet you."

Anton laughed and all his men laughed with him. Carter jumped again and felt stupid. They must think he was a wimp, some tenderfoot without any skills.

"Your friend has a strong fist," Anton said rubbing his chin. "It's a miracle he's alive, though. My men always shoot to kill. Milena was impressed with his courage when she took out the bullet. Gadje like those are hard to find. I respect them."

"Yeah," Carter sighed. "He is eh... Newkirk." He shrugged.

Oo-HH-oO

Newkirk opened his eyes to a clacking sound next to his bed. He blinked to adjust his eyes to the dim light. The girl that had come with Milena was playing with some wooden toy while waiting for him to wake up. She looked up at him with a smile. Before he could remember her name, she spoke.

"_Si tut bocklo?"_ She said.

"She's asking if you're hungry," Milena said from the laundry room where she was folding clothes.

"Sabina, right?" Newkirk said. He shook his head and smiled. "Only water, _nais tuke._"

Sabina's eyes opened wide. She smiled and said something else.

"Slow down, I don't understand." Newkirk laughed.

"Do you speak the dialect?" Milena came in with a glass of water. She helped him to sit up.

"I worked in a circus, back in England. I met some Gyp-," he paused and corrected, "Romany there and picked up a few words."

"I've never been to England." Sabina said as she patted the pillows for Newkirk to lean on his back. "Dadro says it's a big island, right?"

"Big indeed," Newkirk controlled his breathing the best he could.

Sabina picked up the toy she was playing with. Newkirk recognized it immediately. "A Cup-and-Ball! I haven't seen one in years."

"That's the only thing she could rescue after her house burned down. Her older brother made it for her and their baby sister." Milena's voice was low. "They all died that in the fire."

Newkirk's heart felt heavy. From their tunnels, it was hard to see how bad the war had been on civilians. He rarely saw it with his own eyes and external information always focused on more practical aspects.

The girl tried to put the ball in the cup several times but failed at each try. "I'm not good," she smiled.

"Hold it still," he instructed her. "Bounce your arm up and down." Newkirk laughed when she succeeded at the second try. "You did it!"

"Did it!" She repeated. "Nais tuke... Thank you?" She giggled. "Mmm..." She thought the words before saying them. "What is your name?"

"Newkirk," he said.

"New-kirk?"

"Nice to meet you, Sabina" he kissed the back of her hand. His energies began to abandon him again and he had to close his eyes.

"Let's go, girl," Milena signed for her to get up and leave the room. "Mr. Newkirk has to rest now." She turned to the bed. "Sleep, I'll bring you some soup later on."

Newkirk did not hear when they left.

Oo-HH-oO

"But you must understand, Dalibor has vital information about weapons and advancing strategies. In exchange.-"

"You'll send him to London where he'll live free and happy?" Anton leaned forward. "I understand Gadje laws. They don't apply to us. We must watch over our own. That man over there," he pointed upstairs, "is responsible for the loss of over two hundred Romany. Children, women, elders, men not older than you... You see us here? Take a look around you. Ten men, five women and four children. Nineteen people out of two hundred and fifty." He leaned back on his chair and laid one hand on the table. "Vasile Dalibor was volunteer in the _Einsatzgruppen _while he worked with the _Ustachi_. They came to our village one morning when most of us were at work. Some could run away before they arrived, others hid. The soldiers burned buildings, shot people... I came back too late. I was the lucky one, I could find at least one of my children, I lost the other two and their mother... Most of my men here are alone now. Our families are all buried in a common grave right in front of the park where our children used to play..." He paused to drink wine. He could see trouble in Carter's eyes. "Where's justice, Andrew Carter? Where can we go and beg for justice? Wherever we go, they call us thieves, vagabonds" Anton shrugged. "We do our own justice... We've chased and put down ten of those devils. After Dalibor, there will be only four more left."

"But the women, and children? Are they with you while you claim for vengeance?" Carter was not feeling too well. This talking about killing and being killed made him physically ill. "Is it fair to them?"

"We can't leave them behind. If the Nazis find them, they'll be sent to the labor camps. They're safe with us," Anton said. "Romany are not welcome anywhere, my friend, we have to make ourselves at home in hostile territory. Perhaps, we should go where setting houses on fire be against Gadje laws, right?" His tone was rather cynical.

Carter looked around at the activities in the house. Two children of eight or nine played in innocent happiness. The women kept busy working on routine household chores. One of them played with a toddler. In all the faces sadness and fear mixed with occasional laughter. Carter felt for them. He had heard stories, maybe some men from the underground occasionally talked about that, but this was his first personal contact with the evil men did. He had so much to think about. He wished he could talk to Colonel Hogan, he would know what to do. Being in charge of a mission was not as easy as he had thought before...

TBC

* * *

_**Ride Beyond Vengeance (1966)**_

_Einsatzgruppen:SS paramilitary death squads_

_Ustachi:__Croati__an fascist anti-Yugoslav separatist movement _


	6. The Wild Bunch

**VI. _The Wild Bunch_**

The afternoon ended as soon as the thunderstorm started. The prisoners lifted up the collars of their coats and ducked every time they saw a flash of lightning. They had hoped for Colonel Klink to cancel the second roll call of the day due to bad weather. Instead, it had been delayed one hour but the rain did not cooperate.

Kinch came one minute late but no one seemed to notice. Hogan and LeBeau had been covering for him as well as for Newkirk and Carter. Schultz did not stop asking questions about the missing men. Deep inside, he did not want to know anything else but when they would come back. He would not go further with the interrogation. He felt he would no like to find out unusual things about the prisoners.

Hogan glanced at Kinch. One nod and he knew there were news about Carter and Newkirk. He turned to Schultz.

"So, I told Newkirk he should stay in bed. With this weather, he could catch pneumonia." He raised his voice over the thunder.

"This week you slipped on one little puddle and LeBeau fell off his bunk in his sleep. Now you expect me to believe that Newkirk is catching a cold? And where's Carter, trapped in the tunnels with his pet mouse?" Schultz stopped. "I didn't say that. I know nothing about the tunnels!"

"Carter is taking care of Newkirk, of course."

"Of course?" Schultz was furious. "Colonel Hogan, this is the fourth time in less than two months that Newkirk is bedridden. Kommandant Klink is not going to like this at all."

"And what do you want me to do? Blame it in on this freezing winter cold of yours. When it's not snowing it's pouring. My men can't get enough heat from the tin cans you call stoves and-"

"If you have a complaint, put it in writing. I won't be the one telling the kommandant that you're not happy with us." Schultz pouted. "Last time, he took your raise on rations of coal out of my own. Make sure that the Engländer is back on his feet by tomorrow's roll call at six hundred hours or all of us will be in so much trouble."

Kinch was just taking his post when Klink came out of the main building. The Kommandant did not move from the door, he just yelled for confirmation of everybody's presence and dismissed the prisoners. He turned and went back to his office. Schultz sighed and shook his head. He had this guilty expression in his eyes.

"Oh, Schultz, don't feel bad. This is not the first time we lie to the kommandant, is it?" Hogan grinned. "My men will be here to be accounted for tomorrow morning. No excuse, I promise."

"I dread your promises, Colonel Hogan. If they're not here by then, you'll see me very, very angry."

Kinch stayed behind waiting for Hogan to pass. "Colonel, we have a problem."

"Kinch, the day is not over yet." Hogan sighed. "If you want this to work between us, you've got to be nicer."

LeBeau grinned.

"Sorry." Kinch cleared his throat to be heard above the storm without yelling. "Hello, Colonel Hogan," he faked a smile. "Nice weather, isn't it? We have a problem."

"All right, all right," Hogan opened the barrack door. "Let's get inside. At least we can dry out while you ruin what remains of the day."

Oo-HH-oO

"The local news informed about an explosion at the Gestapo HQ in Lorenz. The official story is that there was a gas leak in the kitchen."

"Which means that someone planted a bomb under the nose of those bâtards." LeBeau said.

"Underground?" Hogan frowned.

"I couldn't find confirmation on that." Kinch kept on reading. "There were four casualties at the site. Shortly after that, and in a _non related incident_," Kinch stressed his words to make clear he did not believe that, "three German soldiers were found dead on the road to Freihalleberg just one mile after the exit to Schienbein Stadt. Some kind of car accident provoked by bad weather conditions."

"Carter and Newkirk?" Hogan asked. He pretended not to worry.

"I couldn't find conf-"

"Okay, go on, go on! What else!" LeBeau was on the edge of his seat.

"That's it... Well, I did confirm that one prisoner was missing at the Gestapo, and right after the explosion, there was a struggle between a soldier and a cleaning worker right at the headquarters main door."

"And all that happened the very same day we send Newkirk and Carter into town?" LeBeau shook his head. "Something bad happened, Colonel. I feel it in my bones." He rubbed his injured arm.

"Maybe is rheumatism caused by the rain," Kinch grinned. "You're not getting any younger, LeBeau."

Hogan took Klinch's clipboard and began to pace around. Despite the pain in his ankle, he thought better while walking. He wanted to believe that those incidents at the Gestapo and on the highway were isolated and without any connection to his men. But that was just wishful thinking. He did not need to feel it in his bones to know that Newkirk and Carter were in trouble.

"LeBeau, have you ever been to Lorenz?" Hogan said casually.

A clap of thunder shook the barrack.

"I don't think that I've been to that part of the country yet. But with this weather, I wouldn't go farther than Hammelburg's fish market, merci beaucoup."

"I'm not asking for volunteers, I don't have any more men to send. It'll have to be you and me going to Lorenz. I need to see what happened today." He turned to Kinch. "We need wheels."

"We took Klink's staff car for the weekend, to _tune it in_" Kinch went to the window. "He rented a Mercedes..."

Hogan came to stand next to him and shrugged. "It seems that it'll need tuning in too, don't you think?"

"Two cars in the same week? He might get suspicious," LeBeau said.

"Maybe, but weirder coincidences happen all the time."

His last sentence was crowned by sonorous thunder and a lightning bolt that hit the nearest tree to the sentry tower and set it on fire. Prisoners and guards came out to look at the event. Although the heavy rain extinguished the fire right away, that did not stop Schultz from yelling to his men for water.

Klink came out running and shouting. "What's going on here? Schultz! Repooort!"

"Kommandant! The lighting hit the tower and-"

"I can see that. Why are the prisoners outside and unsupervised?"

"We were just trying to help, Colonel," Hogan leaped up to him. "What a storm. Big mess, isn't it? That the second time this year ..." Suddenly, one idea came to mind. He turned to Kinch who immediately began to elaborate on it.

"Oh, yeah. LeBeau was struck by lighting and became psychic."*

"Gypsy stuff. Very strong magic." Hogan nodded.

"I'm not becoming psychic any more," LeBeau defended himself. He did not care what the plan was, this time, he would refuse to wear an earring.

"I hope none of your men was struck this time. One more accident and we'll have to call for a resident doctor." Klink narrowed his eyes. "What are you up to now, Colonel Hogan?"

"Nothing, sir. It's just that it worries me to see these kind of accidents happening so often in our camp..."

"Often?" Klink tried to look wary and unconvinced. "This is just a thunderstorm. The rest is you and your clumsy men that can't see where they are walking."

"It looks like a curse to me."

"A curse?" Schultz just picked up the word and came closer with frightened eyes. "Someone is cursed? Who is cursed? Newkirk?"

Hogan grimaced when the sergeant brought up that name. Above all, he did not want to attract attention to the fact that two of his men were missing for the evening. "No one, specifically. I'm just saying that-"

"Why did you mention der Engländer?" Klink turned to Schultz. "And where is he? Did I see him today in roll call?"

"He's been feeling poorly again, Herr Kommandant."

"Again? Less than two months ago, it was the measles, twice; two weeks ago, he injured his knee while cleaning my office windows, this week he had a concussion playing pool at the rec hall...How he managed to hit himself in the head with the pole, I still don't know."

"He doesn't have much luck with manual work, poor man." Schultz shook his head.

"The kommandant keeps a good record of events," Hogan tried to smile. "But this one here doesn't have anything to do with him."

"You just said there is a curse, maybe it's him. Der Engländer is cursed. That explains a lot-" Schultz smiled with relief.

"There is no such a thing, Sergeant." Klink protested. "And where is the troublemaker now?" He looked around. "Wait a minute, someone else is missing... The other American... Carter? Is he... _cursed_ too?"

"All right, all right, they're sick." Hogan decided to go on with his plan."Nothing contagious... I hope. Although after this last incident, I'm not quite sure."

"You're not going to make me believe that there is a gypsy curse on the camp, are you?"

"I won't say anything but if I were you, I'll check everything twice before using it. That car over there, for instance, it came from your usual dealer?"

Klink turned to Schultz. "You brought it this morning. It was okay."

"Actually, it made a funny noise, right, Kinch?" Hogan faked interest.

The sergeant put on his serious face and nodded. "Certainly, I remember when I worked at my father's workshop. Cars with funny noises like that never got far."

"It made it all the way from Hammelburg," Klink said.

"Actually," Schultz said. "It was a little slow in the curves and fast going straight..."

"That's the way you usually drive, dummkopf!" Klink pulled up the collar of his coat. The rain had been falling for the length of their argument but he had just realized that he was getting soaked. "Now I want to see the _sick_ prisoners."

Hogan did not even grin. "You may, but I wouldn't recommend it. If they're contagious, and with this weather... Wouldn't it be a shame having that Mercedes for the week and not being able to use it due to a strong case of the flu?" More thunder emphasized his words.

Klink pondered the situation. "Very well, I grant you twenty-four hours. I want to see your men at roll call tomorrow afternoon. Schultz, I'm back to my office. Take the prisoners back to their barracks. Calling sick after standing in the rain is strictly prohibited! I don't want to see any more absences at roll call tomorrow morning!"

"This means you're not having the car checked?" Hogan grinned.

Klink stopped on his way and turned. "Sergeant Klinchloe may take a look at it. Dismissed!"

Hogan waited until the office door closed behind the kommandant. "Okay, boys. Let's go."

Kinch and LeBeau followed him to the workshop. Schultz stepped on their way.

"Where are you going now? You must go back to the barracks!"

"Later, Schultz. We have a car to fix here." Hogan grinned.

"But, Colonel, it's pouring. Can't it wait till tomorrow?"

"The early bird..., Schultz." Hogan said. "Besides, what if the kommandant wants to go out tonight and has an accident because the car was not properly tuned? You don't want that on your conscience, do you?"

The sergeant sighed. Hogan was talking his way into something else. Schultz would not participate in whatever it was. He shook his head. "Please, Colonel. Whatever you have to do, do it fast. And get everything back to normal by tomorrow morning."

Oo-HH-oO

Carter strolled around to clarify his thoughts. In moments like this, he wished to be back on the farm, doing manual work. Busy hands helped to put the troubled mind at ease. He heard children laughing in the front yard and he got curious. The two boys were playing in the puddles. Carter came up with an idea. He looked around and found old newspapers on the floor. He grabbed some sheets and went outside. Without any words, he had the kids' attention and together they folded paper hats and paper boats. They played on the streams caused by the rain near the front porch.

"How old are you, guys?" he asked after a while.

"I'm ten, my name is Johan and this is Pavel, he's eight. He don't talk."

"He doesn't speak English, you mean."

"Oh, he do, but he don't talk anymore."

Virgil came up and sent the kids in to dinner. He picked up one of the boats and smiled. "Thank you," he said. "I haven't had time to play with my children in a long time."

"They're good kids," Carter shrugged. "I-I'm sorry about Pavel... How did that happen?"

"Three years ago, when all of this began." Virgil shook his head. "I was on the fields with Johan. My wife had just given birth to our third, Emil. She stayed at home with the two boys. Later I knew that Pavel had taken my baby and hid in the church basement, while they murdered everybody else upstairs..." He took a deep breath. "All I could do was take my three boys and join Anton. The women have taken good care of them."

Carter had to swallow some tears. "Don't you want to go away, and give them some place where they can play in peace?"

"Someday, when this is over, I will. My boys will grow up in peace where Romany people won't be chased like pariahs anymore."

Carter followed Virgil into the house. Now, he was more confused than before. Inside he felt rage and anguish for these people. Their war was too heavy to handle. But the worst part was that this time, he was in charge.

He had learned that every decision he made would bring a consequence he would have to live with. So far, others had been doing that for him. _Colonel Hogan would know what to do_, he sighed. If he took Dalibor to London, it would be like betraying these poor people one more time. He did not want to be part of it... On the other hand, going back empty handed to the Stalag, might put him in the worst position with Hogan and his friends. How would London like to send a plane all the way to Germany just for nothing? He could not bounce back from there. He had serious thinking to do... He needed his friends to help him to do the right thing.

He would talk to Newkirk.

Carter sneaked in the room. Newkirk should be sleeping, or resting. If he really knew that Englishman, he would be probably working his way out of the bed, ready for action. Instead, he found Milena struggling to keep him under the blankets.

"The fever began to rise a few minutes ago. We need to keep him still." She got up. "Stay with him. I'm going for fresh water."

Carter panicked. This could not be happening. He might be losing his friend right there. He sat on the bed and took Newkirk's hand. The Englishman did not notice him but did not withdraw his hand. His eyes were closed, his head rolled on the pillow and he gasped for air. His fist clenched on the blanket as thought trying to tear it apart.

"Newkirk?" Carter whispered. He gently pulled up the blanket.

"So hot... can't breathe..." He shifted and moaned.

The thunderstorm was closer now. Newkirk shuddered with each lightning flash.

"Don't move. It's only thunder." Carter began to lose faith. Things could not be worse and he was awfully alone.

TBC

* * *

**_The Wild Bunch (1969)_**

**_The Gypsy _**_season 6 episode 13_**_  
_**

_As I did with my other story, except for Hammelburg, the names of the cities come from my capricious imagination. So, don't try to look them up on Google Earth to see if distances are accurate LOL_


	7. Lonely Are The Brave

**VII _Lonely are the Brave_**

The storm was nearer now. The thunder sounded like war. The rain leaked through the tiles of the old roof. Carter barely noticed people coming and going, carrying loads of clothes and other things. His attention was on Newkirk's elaborate breathing.

The fever had given him almost an hour of restless dreams. He covered his ears to the thunder and yelled at the shadows. Carter kept washing his forehead with fresh water. Sometimes, Newkirk seemed to respond and stare at him, but then, his eyes drifted back into the nightmares. Carter was losing what he had left of his positive temper. He talked to his friend but his words did not seem to reach him.

"Please, Newkirk, don't you die on me..." Carter whispered. "Don't you dare to die on me now."

"Go back... go back..." Newkirk rolled his head violently. "Take cover... " Thunder resounded on the walls and he screamed. "Carter!"

Carter grabbed him by the wrists looking some awareness on him. "I'm here. I'm all right... Newkirk?" He kept his voice down.

Sabina came with more water and clean bandages. She sat down with him while Carter cleaned and dressed his friend's wound. He refreshed Newkirk's brow and chest but the fever did not seem to come down.

"He's brave, he'll make it." She smiled as thought that were her only way of telling him that things would be all right. "I have to watch the baby, but I'll be back later."

Carter was too sad to respond. For the first time since he had been captured, he wanted to leave. But it was not like when he had received that _Dear John _letter * and he had almost begged to be sent back home. Now, he just wanted to disappear. Go away, as far as possible; away from the war, from its injustice, from the upside down world he was living in... He curled up in his chair, hugging his knees and staring at one distant wall.

His mind was just setting into a more peaceful picture when one hand reached him out.

"Andrew..." Newkirk's voice came in a whisper. His blue eyes were half opened but completely aware of his friend sitting next to his bed.

Carter could have cried but he restrained himself. He squeezed Newkirk's hand and tried to smile. "Boy, you got me worried for a moment. Are you back for good?"

Newkirk took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I think so... yes..."

Carter wiped Newkirk's forehead before replacing a wet cloth. He was grateful but deep inside there was still a feeling of despair. He needed to talk about the things that were happening. He wanted Newkirk to come up with the answers; to tell him what to do. But he did not know where to start, his friend was in no condition to solve the simplest problems of the world. The Englishman turned to look at him again. He frowned. Carter grimaced. His face was too readable.

"What's wrong?" Newkirk asked.

"Nothing," he lied. "Go to sleep."

"Carter..."

"Do you want something? Water? I'll bring you some, okay? Sleep." He rushed out.

What an act of cowardice, he thought. Running away from his best friend when he needed him the most. But there was no much more he could do. If he stayed, he would probably tell Newkirk about everything that was happening. That would not help anyone. Newkirk was fighting for his life, he did not need more situations to deal with. That was Carter's job now.

He found Sabina in the hallway. She was dragging an old bag bigger than her. She stopped to brush her bangs off her forehead and smiled. "Newkirk is fine?"

"Yeah, better." He lifted the bag on his shoulder. "Where are you taking this?"

The girl led the way outside where two small trucks were parked. Women and men were loading their belongings while the children played. Carter stared at them. Milena came out with some boxes and nodded at him.

"Is the fever coming down?"

"A little. Are you going anywhere?" Carter asked.

"It's time to leave," she said. "You may stay in the house. It was abandoned when we arrived, I don't think anyone will come soon. There's no electrical power, but there's plenty of water in the well."

"But where are you going?"

"We'll try to cross the Swiss border in a couple of days. We're leaving at midnight. Since we found the man we were looking for, there's nothing else to hold us here."

Carter turned to the house. "Dalibor? You're taking him with you?"

"That's why we came all this way, my friend." Anton came from behind and Carter jumped. The man laughed. "You're a funny young man. Take care. I suppose I have to thank you for getting him for us, or maybe apologize for taking him from you." He laughed some more.

Carter did not say anything. That man scared him too much. He looked at his watch, there was not much time left. Perhaps Newkirk should know about this, or maybe not. He sighed. This was one of those moments that did not come in the manual. Why was he a sergeant? He was supposed to make decisions on his own? He was not a leader. He worked better as a follower...

He went back into the house. Newkirk must be back to sleep... He chuckled, sure, right. _Tell the man to do something and he will do the opposite._ He entered the laundry room and found an empty bed. He looked around.

"Newkirk!" Carter squinted in the shadows. "What the hell are you doing? Come back to bed, now!"

"If I go back to bed, I won't be able to get up again." Newkirk walked towards him with a clean shirt he had fetched from the laundry room. He shook at every step and his breathing was shallow. "You never came back... Something's going on, isn't it?"

"Newkirk, this is not good. You have no idea of how sick you are."

"I'm fine. This is not me first gunshot, you know?" He stumbled and had to lean on a small table.

"Newkirk, go back to bed, please." Carter found a softer and calmer mood this time.

"Something's going on." Newkirk duplicated the polite tone while trying the shirt on. "What is it? It's the gypsies? Dalibor's still alive?"

"Go back to bed, please."

"Carter." Newkirk tried to raise his voice but he could only gasp. "Tell me what's going on."

"Nothing, everything's okay. Now, go back to bed. Please!"

"I see people moving around. You know what's happening. Why don't you tell me?" The effort he spent on the last question seemed to drain him. He did not fall because Carter had anticipated it. He caught him with one hand on his shoulder.

"Newkirk, please. Why do you do this to yourself? You need to rest. Your wound is serious."

"Sod the wound! Carter," Newkirk grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the wall. "If you don't tell me what the bloody hell is going on, I'll put you in critical condition!"

The sergeant had to step back a little. Newkirk's eyes glowed with the fever. He shook his head. "They're leaving tonight... and they're taking Dalibor with them." Suddenly, he was angry too. He glared and pointed at Newkirk with his finger. "And you _never _use that tone with me again!"

Newkirk let him go. He was embarrassed for the outburst. "I'm sorry... I- I don't know what came over me..." He straightened up and took a deep breath. He stared at Carter and snorted. "Where did you get those clothes?"

"A present, they don't like German uniforms very much," Carter said.

"Why was it so hard for you to tell me about their leaving?"

Carter went to sit on a chair. He kept his eyes on the floor and shrugged. "That man Dalibor is a monster, Newkirk. He- hurt these people very much and-"

"You thought it would be easier letting them have their revenge than taking him with us."

"You're not surprised? You knew?"

Newkirk leaned against the wall. "No, but it's easy to guess. This sodden war is full of monsters, Carter. And not all of them will be punished. If you look for justice, this might the wrong war for you."

"So? What can we do, then? We're only two against ten men." Carter shook his head. "And the women, I think they know how to shoot too."

"The gov'nor put you in charge because he trusts your good judgement. I'll do whatever you want me to," Newkirk grinned. "But you'll have to give all the explanations, then."

"_For every action, there is a reaction._" Cater shook his head. "I don't know, Newkirk. I was hoping for you to give me some answers."

"Ask yourself the question: What would Colonel Hogan do?"

"Oh, that's easy... I think." Carter blinked as though the ideas were hurting his brain. "He would take the man... No, he would let them take the man... Right?"

Newkirk rubbed the back of his neck. He was tired and in too much pain to engage long conversations. "Carter, we have to take that man to the airstrip." He sighed. "As much as I'd love to see that ruddy bastard getting what he deserves, we've got to put him in that plane tomorrow. That's what we came all this way for. There are no options."

Carter felt rather relieved because there was a course of action to follow. That was not exactly the answer he was hoping, though. They were on the losing side. "Okay, let's say we do that... How?"

"What time is it?"

"Almost eight. They leave at midnight."

"We need to get out of here as soon as possible." Newkirk ignored the pain and the chills to concentrate on a plan. "What did you see outside?"

"Two trucks. Not too big, loaded with stuff." Carter said. "And the small car they used to bring us here, remember?"

"I was on me way to a concert at the Albert Hall at that time, Andrew. I can't bloody remember a thing." Newkirk almost smiled. "We need to neutralize those trucks. Can you do that?"

"I-I guess-"

"Blimey, Carter. You guess or you can?"

"Yes, yes I can neutralize the trucks... When?"

"Now is a jolly good time."

Carter stood up. "And what are you going to do in the meantime?

"I'll look for our man and I'll meet you outside. Do you know where he is?" Newkirk tried to steady himself with just one hand against the wall. He was suddenly dizzy and almost fell down.

Carter held him on his feet and led him back to the bed. "I'll fix the trucks, and then, _we'll both_ go for the man, okay?" Carter stared at him. "You wait here. Don't move from the bed. Do you hear me?"

Newkirk saluted him with a grin. "Be waiting right here, Serge... Hurry."

Oo-HH-oO

Lorenz was not a tourist town. It was rather industrial. In war times, most of the fabrics and warehouses had been put at the service of the Regimen. This had caused the city to be a regular target for the RAF. The local government asked the Gestapo to set their local headquarters in Lorenz to discourage chaos and protect the factories and other buildings from sabotage. Curfew had also become routine by now.

LeBeau sat in the driver's seat of Klink's rented car absently staring at the darkened streets. The Gestapo had secured the explosion site and made everything look like an accident. LeBeau did not care how or why they had covered it up, his only concern was that Carter and Newkirk would be okay.

Hogan opened the door. "All the casualties in the building have been properly identified. No outsiders whatsoever."

"That's a relief." LeBeau started the engine. "Where to now, Colonel?"

"How's your shoulder?"

"Stiff, but I can drive. And your ankle?"

"Swollen, don't make me run the extra mile," Hogan grinned. "We'll take the road to Freihalleberg. We'll follow our friends' steps and let's hope they didn't get involved in any accident on the road."

"You don't think Newkirk and Carter are involved, do you?"

"I'll leave the odds to Newkirk, he's the gambler. But so far so good," Hogan said. "If it's just a simple car crash without any connection with our friends, we may assume that the mission is still on and we just go back to the Stalag."

"If it is not a simple accident?"

"That's why we carry our music box (1)with us. Just in case something else comes up." Hogan smiled. "I'm confident, LeBeau. I trust my men to overcome any obstacle."

The site of the crash was illuminated but most of the debris had been removed. Hogan and LeBeau got out the car to examine even small particles on the ground. Hogan would have liked to get there sooner when all evidence was still fresh. At night, it was hard just to find where the car had actually crashed. LeBeau walked around with his eyes on the grass and a prayer not to finding anything. Hogan directed his flashlight towards a pile of junk nearby, and he sighed.

"LeBeau, do you recognize that door?"

The car was upside down, windows shattered and bullet holes in several places. The door in question was right in front of them. It had letters scratched over it and covered with cheap paint that the constant rain had began to wash away. The letters formed the words _Lafayette!_

"La vache! I keyed that door myself last week." LeBeau shook his head. "It's Klink's car."

"What's left of it, at least." Hogan could not be more disappointed. "I knew it was going to be no picnic."

LeBeau looked around for some more evidence of their friend's presence. "There are blood stains everywhere." He could not hide his concern.

"Let's not anticipate anything. There were three casualties here and all were also identified. But I'll call Kinch to put everything on hold until we locate our men."

"Okay, there are tracks of some other vehicle going that way." LeBeau pointed at the open field. "Shall we follow them, sir?"

Hogan nodded. They got in the car and resumed their way.

Oo-HH-oO

Newkirk drank from a bowl of soup under Sabina's watchful eye. The girl had come to see him right after Carter went out. He was ready to leave, but she did not seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere else. He took a sip only to please her.

"You must eat," she said with a resolute grin.

"Not quite hungry, luv." He smiled.

Sabina checked Newkirk's temperature on his cheek and shook her head. "You still have fever, you must eat."

"Later, all right?" Newkirk stood up and groaned. He shuddered in pain and cold.

Sabina ran to the other room and brought back a jacket. "Are you cold, Newkirk?"

"Thanks, lassie. You're so sweet." He put it on and walked to the door.

The girl came after him and pulled his sleeve. "You must go to bed! You're sick."

Newkirk turned to her and gently claimed his arm. "Listen, luv. I need to walk, why don't you go on packing? Seems you've got a lot to take with you."

Sabina held the cup-and-ball toy against her chest. "I hate packing, we're always packing... Can I stay with you?"

Newkirk was too busy keeping himself from passing out to pay attention to the girl following him. He went to the main door to see how Carter was doing. He shook his head to clear his mind. The fever had slowed down but he still had the chills. Suddenly, he spotted some weapons in the kitchen. He turned on his heels and almost tumbled on Sabina.

"Sabina, you must have better things to do." He had to make an effort to stay steady on his feet. He had an idea. "Eh... I need water." Newkirk smiled. "Would you get me one glass, please?"

The girl ran into the kitchen and he followed her. He managed to sneak behind her to examine the arsenal closely. Several weapons of different kinds were spread on the table waiting to be organized and distributed. With all the moving flow they remained unsupervised. Newkirk grabbed two pistols and hid them in his belt under the jacket.

"Newkirk!" Sabina said. The Englander jumped and turned. Completely ignorant of what he had just done, she gave him the glass of water. One small grin from him and the girl giggled.

* * *

Carter kept a watchful eye on the people coming and going. Someone had opened the hoods to check that the old engines would endure several miles. Carter walked slowly among this very busy group. No one seemed to pay much attention to what he was doing when he climbed up to see under the hood of the first truck. He had to remember Kinch's lessons on mechanics. The second truck was not difficult either, although one of the boys came closer to see.

"What you doing, Carter?" Johan asked. He had been watching his little brother Emil. A three year-old toddler playing with a teddy bear on a blanket spread on the ground. After a while, he decided that whatever Carter was doing must be more interesting than all the packing.

"Oh, hi, Johan, where's you other brother... Pavel?" Carter leaned casually on the hood of the second truck.

"He's somewhere in the house." Johan shrugged. "What are those things?" He pointed at Carter's hand.

"Nothing, just something I picked up from a pile of junk." He stammered. "I- I collect junk."

"Really? I collect rocks!" Johan's face glowed. "I had a big collection, but it was too heavy to take it with me. Do you want me to show you what I got?"

"Sure, why don't you go and bring it here." Carter smiled. Then, he felt like the lowest creature in the world. He had just lied to a child. He went back to his task of sabotage and finished just when the boy was coming back. The sergeant took time to admire Johan's rock collection and talk a little about nothing in particular.

After several minutes dodging Sabina, Newkirk could finally go outside to meet Carter. The sergeant's guilty look proclaimed that he had done a great job.

"No one saw you?" Newkirk asked.

"They didn't notice me at all. Well, only that kid..." Carter shook his head. "Gosh, I hate deceiving people."

"You do it all the time when impersonating officers, and planting bombs about."

"That's different, I know these people by their names."

Newkirk tried to understand. He had been a deceiver for too many years to care much about faces and much less their names. He had friends but the job was always a priority. He handed Carter one of the guns. Just to see the expression on his face made Newkirk mad. "Not a word, Carter. You don't have to fire it, it's just for intimidation, all right? Now, let's get Dalibor." He turned to the sergeant again. "And don't drop it, or misplace it or throw it away."

TBC

* * *

_**Lonely Are The Brave (1962)**_

**_* Request Permission to Escape, _**_season 1 episode 32_

_(1) portable radio_

_Reviews are always welcome. Thanks for keep on reading ;)  
_


	8. The Outlaw Andrew Carter

**VIII. _The Outlaw Andrew Carter_**

The rain was heavy and cold. Schultz had to beg Kinch to letting him in the barrack. He counted heads but Newkirk, Hogan, LeBeau and Carter were nowhere around. As much as he feared to ask, he had no choice.

"Sergeant Kinchloe, where is Colonel Hogan and Corporal LeBeau... and Corporal Carter and Corporal..."

"Funny thing that you ask about them," Kinch pointed at Hogan's office. "They're in quarantine. In fact, everyone here is."

Schultz looked around at the moaning, coughing men in their bunks. Only Kinch was on his feet. "How come you're not in bed like the others?"

"All right, enough with the interrogatory! You caught me." He sighed. "I'm immune."

"Immune? How?" Schultz shrugged.

"My grandmother is from New Orleans."

"So? Is there some kind of flu that doesn't affect people with relatives from New Orleans?"

"No, but she protected me with magic."

"Oh, come on, Sergeant. I'm not stupid. Want kind of magic works against the flu?"

"This is not the flu, Schultz." Kinch's eyes narrowed. "This is a gypsy curse..." He lowered his voice. "Do you remember this afternoon with the thunder and lightning? Only the powerful magic of the Bayou protects me..."

Schultz stared at him. "But what kind of magic is that?"

"Voodoo. My grandmother is a Witch Queen." Kinch shrugged. "Unfortunately, it only works for me."

"A-and what exactly does this curse do?" There was a tremor in Schultz's voice. "Is it really like the flu?"

"At first, yes but then..." Kinch took a deep breath before going on. "The person disappears." He turned to Hogan's office. "First, it was Newkirk, then Carter... Colonel Hogan and LeBeau... He went rather fast because of..."

"...his size, of course." Schultz nodded.

"I suspect it started with a watch that Newkirk stole from the old man that brought the newspapers last week."

"Fritzie? He's not a gypsy."

"No, but he probably knows one in town."

"Mein Gott!" Schultz jumped. "There are a lot of them around indeed, but they looked like good people. I never thought about them cursing anybody... Is it contagious?"

"I hope not, and I don't want to speculate but everybody who has been near that rented car has disappeared."

Both Kinch and Schultz stared through the window at the two piles covered in green canvas in the workshop area.

"But Carter and Newkirk did not-"

"Oh, yes, they did. They sneaked to see the Mercedes while you were not looking."

"Mein Gott! I drove it all the way here!" Schultz paled. "I'm next! I don't want to disappear.!"

"Maybe there's a way to neutralize the effects..." Kinch's eyes glared with excitement.

"What should I do?"

"It's going to be a little hard but, I think we can do this together..." he grinned at Schultz's rapt expression. The German sergeant sat at the table, all attention to what Kinch was about to say.

Oo-HH-oO

Carter would have preferred to leave Newkirk downstairs while he got Dalibor. But someone had to open the room where he was locked in. Each step was excruciating on the Englishman's side. By the time they got to the second floor, he was all sweaty and dizzy.

"Don't ask," Newkirk stopped his friend. "I'm still here... Just let's do this and get out."

Newkirk crouched in front of the lock and worked it with his lock picks. He dropped them once and cursed. Carter was getting nervous. This was the first time he had seen Newkirk to clumsy and distracted. He expected him to pass out at any time. When he was finally done, he needed Carter's help to get up.

"Moj Bog! _My God!_" Dalibor said. "You look like hell!"

"Who better than the devil in person to know, right?" Newkirk smirked. He pushed the man to walk in front of him.

Downstairs, Anton's men gathered waiting for them. Anton came forward. He only raised an eyebrow before talking. "You didn't think you were leaving just like that, did you?"

"Y-you can't keep us here against our will, we're not your prisoners." Carter felt short of breath as he stood in front of the man.

"Of course not, you may leave whenever you want to," he said. "It's him who has to stay. Dalibor is our prisoner now."

"With all due respect, I'm afraid we can't allow that, sir." Newkirk smiled. "See? Our orders come from very high commanders."

Anton stared at him for the first time. He came closer. "You knocked me down, Gadjo. That was your lucky strike of the day."

"I don't intent to make an encore, Gov'nor. All we want is to get out, with our prisoner, no biggies." Newkirk was not scared of the big man but the fever made him shudder all the same.

Anton laughed out loud. "You two got guts, Gadje. But that won't help you. What could you possibly do to go away with this animal? All I see is one wounded man that can't stop shaking and another one who will not dare to fire the pistol he's carrying."

"Hey! I can fire this," Carter protested. "We'll do what we'll have to do to carry on with our orders!"

"Sure," Anton laughed again. "You may try but the result will be the same. You're not going anywhere with him."

"We're prepared for the worst, Mr. Havel." Carter said. "Right, Newkirk?"

Newkirk was fighting to remain aware of what was going on. The situation was bad and getting worse for them. He knew that they needed something to even the odds and maybe, turn them on their favor.

Anton stepped forward with the gun in his hand. His eyes were cold as he smiled. "I'll count till three, Gadje, you don't need to die like this. That man is not worth it."

Carter's heart began to beat fast. He had never shot anyone or anything at such a close range. He aimed all the same, Anton would surely die. He looked around at the rest of the men ready to jump on him the minute he opened fire. But his biggest concern was for the children. They could get hurt too. Sabina, for instance, seemed to have made a habit of following Newkirk around. She was too close now.

"One!" Anton's voice was intimidating.

Carter raised the gun, but he was still uncertain. How far should he go to protect one man that was already doomed for his crimes? Would Colonel Hogan approve of any decision he made? Or just of the one according to his own code of conduct? Carter shook his head. Was he a soldier first and then a human being? Should not it be the other way around? Was that what war was all about?

"Two!"

Newkirk made his calculations. Gamblers always took advantage of the circumstances surrounding them. They balanced odds and stakes and then, they decided on the best course of action. He felt the _three_ in the count coming fast. There was no time to consider the logical thing to do. Before Anton's lips parted to end the count, Newkirk reached for Sabina's arm and pulled her against his chest. He took out the pistol he had concealed under his jacket and put it near her head with the barrel aiming at the ceiling.

"Nobody moves!" His voice was tense but controlled. "Gentlemen, lower down your weapons. Please."

Carter was the most surprised of all. He would not have seen that coming in a million years. Not from the Newkirk he knew. His first impulse was to put down his gun along with the rest of the Romany men.

"Mostly unexpected, wasn't it?" Dalibor laughed when the men stepping back. He walked to the door and waited for Carter and Newkirk to make the next move. "Can't say that it's been a pleasure-"

"Shut up! Or I'll shoot you meself!" Newkirk aimed at him. "Watch our prisoner, Carter!" he yelled. "Everybody else, move away. We're leaving now."

"B-But Newkirk!" Carter did not move.

"Go to the car, Andrew!" He kept the girl very close. He did not feel her offer any resistance for which he was grateful. One little kick or push would have been enough to disarm him and throw him on the floor.

"D-Dadro?" She pleaded Anton to do something.

Anton would throw himself on Newkirk and crushed him against the floor. But all he could see was the gun and a desperate man capable of anything. "You're dead, British bastard! I'll find you! You won't get away with this!" Anton shouted with all his might. "I'll find you and kill you and that stupid Yank friend of yours!"

He ran outside to see the strangers getting the girl in the car. He dumped his frustration by throwing his beret to the ground. At this point, Anton could not care less about Dalibor. He would have even let them take him with them as long as they would have set Sabina free.

"The back seat, Carter!" Newkirk threw the girl on the front seat and he took the wheel. He made a couple of quick connections to start the engine.

Carter struggled to keep his gun steady in his shaky hands. Dalibor did not say anything but he was rather enjoying the ride. All the while, the distance from the house was getting wider. No one was after them. At least, Carter thought, he had done a good job with the trucks.

"Newkirk! This is one of the stupidest things you've ever done!"

"Do you want to know something funnier?" Dalibor grinned. "The girl called Anton _dadro. _The Engländer took Anton's daughter."

Carter felt the color leaving his face and for a moment, he thought he could not breath. Instead, the rage surfaced. He punched the back of the driver's seat with so much strength that Newkirk bounced forward. "I correct. This is the stupidest thing you've ever done! You crossed the line, Peter! What were you thinking?"

"I brought us a way of escape. How should've I known that gorilla had a daughter?" He turned to the girl, who was curled in a corner. "No offense meant, luv." He tried to smile.

"Shut up! Don't you see she's terrified of you?... Of us!" Carter had to stop talking to prevent hyperventilating. "You and your last-minute solutions! What are we going to do now?"

"For starters, we'll stop shouting at each other. I can hear you perfectly well from here." Newkirk kept his eyes on the desolate road. His side ached with every breath that he took. The adrenaline in his system was slowing down and he began to feel lousy again. "We'll get to Schienbein Stadt and we'll rest there until it's rendezvous time."

Carter sank in his seat and stared through the window. The night had fallen, the thunderstorm had set in and everything looked gloomy and depressing; just as he was feeling inside. How did they come to this? Running away like outlaws in one of those western movies he used to watch on Sunday matinees back in his hometown. _We've got the Indians at our back... _he thought. _What's next? Would the cavalry get here in time to save the day?..._

TBC

* * *

_**The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976)**_


	9. The Searchers

**IX _The Searchers_**

Hogan and LeBeau had been driving along the rural road for over an hour. The hunch that had led them till there was slowly fading away. The rain was heavy and the night was too dark to see anything at all.

"Let's go ahead another five minutes and then, we'll turn around."

Although LeBeau nodded, he was not happy. For Carter and Newkirk, he would go on to the Swiss border and beyond. Five minutes were no enough. They could be six minutes away from their friends. They could be missing them for seconds for all that matter...

Lightning illuminated the road ahead and Hogan blinked. "Stop the car." He pulled up the collar of his jacket and got out. LeBeau followed him trying to see what had caught the colonel's attention. In front of them, there was nothing but darkness and mud.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est, Colonel? What is it?"

"I thought I saw a light over that hill." Hogan took out his pistol. "Let's go. Slowly. Remember we're dressed like Gestapo." He got back in the car.

LeBeau sighed. Wearing these uniforms made him not just uncomfortable but an easy target as well. Although they were in German territory, there was no way to predict how people would received them. Some just loved the Nazis, but others would not hesitate to blow off their heads. The Frenchman adjusted his helmet and got his pistol ready.

They drove up the road until they got to a farm house. Voices inside disturbed the stillness of the night. Hogan assumed that the inhabitants of the house were having some sort of celebration. LeBeau grabbed Hogan's arm before he got out of the car.

"Romany," he whispered.

"Gypsies?" Hogan frowned. "Do you speak the dialect?"

"One word here and there," LeBeau shook his head. "There are as many dialects as tribes. From all those bad words, I'd say they're very, very angry."

Hogan thanked him for the warning. He got out slowly, leaning heavily on an elegant cane Newkirk had stolen for him after the explosion accident. He had had no plans to go on any mission until his ankle was completely healed. But the Englishman insisted that it would bring dignity to his pathetic walking. Who would have known that he would be using it so soon?

They had just started to walk when the sound of someone cocking a rifle put them in guard. They raised their hands up and waited. The light of torches began to illuminate the path from the house towards Hogan and LeBeau.

One young man came with his rifle aimed on Hogan. He yelled to the people inside the house. Soon, Hogan and LeBeau were surrounded by ten men. Someone took the pistols from them while a group of women glared from the door. One big man stepped forward.

"Was möchten Sie hier?" Anton's face barely showed behind a thick scarf that covered him up to his nose.

Hogan had to make a quick decision about keeping the German language or dropping the disguises right away. Gypsies were persecuted in Germany. The Gestapo uniforms would cause distrust and hostility. It did not make sense to antagonize them.

"Ich bin Amerikaner. Spricht hier jemand Englisch?"

Anton growled "More Americans? They're falling from the sky!" Although he laughed, it was evident that he was not happy. His men laughed with him. "And all dressed like Germans," he said, coming closer. "I'd just want to know why in hell these Americans keep on coming into my house! And those disguises..." His festive laugh ended abruptly. "Are you celebrating the All Hallows Eve?"

"Des autres Americans? Où sont-ils?" LeBeau jumped.

"LeBeau." Hogan stopped him. He tried his most polite approach. "I understand that this must be very unusual but I assure you we have a good explanation. Could we talk out of the rain, Mister...?"

"Anton Havel and not bother, I talked enough with the other Gadje. Is that your car over there? I'm taking it right now." He called four men and sent them into the car.

"Hey, attendez! Qu'est-ce que vous faites? Colonel!" LeBeau ignored the pain in his shoulder and made a rush at the men. Virgil put his rifle on his chest and the Frenchman stopped right there.

"LeBeau!" Hogan yelled and stepped forward, leaning on his cane "You already took our guns. Do you need to shoot us too?"

"I won't waste my time discussing my motives, _Colonel_," Anton shouted without turning to see him. "My quarrel is not with you."

"Wait a moment, our bag. You don't need that." Hogan signed for LeBeau to take the portable radio out the car.

"You're free to go now!" Anton got in the car. He yelled something else in his dialect and left.

"He asked them to follow him as soon as the trucks are fixed," LeBeau translated.

"What's wrong with your trucks?" Hogan asked at random hoping to find someone else who spoke English.

"The Gadje broke them" Milena said. She stared at Hogan with curiosity. "Are you _Gov'nor_?"

Hogan frowned, warily. "Where did you hear that name?"

"From one of the Gadje. He was delirious with fever and called for _Gov'nor_ several times."

"He has fever?" LeBeau jumped. "Mon Dieu! Newkirk, what happened to him?"

"Later, LeBeau," Hogan said. He was also alarmed but there was no time for much talking. "See what you can do for the trucks, we need to get our friends as soon as possible." He turned to the woman. "You'll talk to us while we work."

Hogan resented LeBeau's frustration. The French corporal was not pleased about Anton's taking their car; he would have wanted to see more action. But Hogan knew that the situation was too volatile at the moment. They needed to know all the facts before jumping into anything.

Oo-HH-oO

_**Gestapo Headquarters, Berlin**_

The lieutenant read the report and smirked. Two men dressed as Gestapo officers had entered the Gestapo local bureau at Lorenz. They had planted explosives and kidnapped one of the prisoners. They killed four staff members on the site. During the chase that followed, three other officers had been killed. There were strong suspicions that the men were working in connection with a clandestine organization hiding in a farm near the road to Schienbein Stadt.

The orders were to send one patrol of four men that would join forces with Lorenz local authorities. They would search the area thoroughly for clues leading to the perpetrators, their accomplices and the prisoner they had helped to escape. The men were described as dangerous, desperate and extremely violent. They were wanted dead or alive.

Oo-HH-oO

"Can it be fixed?" Hogan asked LeBeau, as he held the flashlight over the engine.

"This is the fifth time you ask the same question," the Frenchman shook his head. "It's Carter's work, no doubt about it. An easy fix. Some of the wires are missing."

Hogan thought about it for a moment. He looked around at the house and the garden. The rain had not slowed down a bit. He sat next to LeBeau and turned the flashlight to the ground.

"If you were Carter, where would you put those things? Would you take them with you? Would you just throw them away?"

"I'd throw them away, but Carter, he would probably keep them in his pocket or something..."

"Think like Carter, LeBeau. You need time to escape. You fix the trucks so no one can follow you... But," Hogan stressed the word. "But, you know these people need the trucks to go home... He would not like to sabotage them to the point of leaving them stranded in the middle of nowhere, would he?"

"You're right, mon Colonel. He would hide them around, peut-être?"

"You look that way and I'll look this way."

"Look for wires? At night? In the rain?"

"Can't get any more fun than this, eh Louie?" Hogan grinned.

They walked dragging their feet and keeping their eyes wide open. But it was too dark for their flashlights to cover so much ground. Just when LeBeau was about to say how impossible this task was, five men came out of the house with their own torches.

Milena sat on the steps of the porch cradling the baby. She looked sad to see such a hopeless search. Hogan signed LeBeau to go on while he went to sit with the woman.

"I'm sorry about all of this. I suppose we're delaying your leaving," Hogan groaned as his foot protested when he sat down.

"Your men just did what they thought had to be done," Milena caressed little Emil's hair.

Hogan held out his index finger so the toddler could grasp it. That made him smile. "They were following my orders, so, I feel responsible for this."

Milena stared at the men frantically searching for the wires. Johan and Pavel came to join them and despite the urgency, they seemed to be having fun. She longed for those days when their problems were only about how many coats they would have to knit for the next winter.

"We're just tired. It's been almost three years... Emil has never slept in the same bed for more than two weeks in a row... the children need to go home, go to school..."

"I'm ignorant about this but, aren't the Romany a nomadic tribe?"

The baby slid from Milena's lap to climb on Hogan's. The colonel did not seem to mind when the child began to play with the buttons of his uniform.

Milena smiled. "There are many myths about the Romany. Some are bad, others are just annoying." She looked at the other children. "Before the_ bad things _happened, we lived in a nice neighborhood, with stores and playgrounds. There was a school and a church to go every Sunday." She laughed at Hogan's curious stare. "I've never traveled on wagons and danced around the bonfire at night... and I only use deck of cards to build castles with the children."

"Sorry," Hogan smiled. The baby fell asleep in his arms. He gently handed him to the woman. "I heard about those _bad things,_ Milena. Words can't describe how disgusted I am by what you've been through."

"There is no one here who hasn't lost a member of their family." She sighed but her face kept serene. "I miss my husband every day... my brother Virgil and his sons are the only thing that keeps me going. Anton's daughter is all his world. We live day by day, hoping for the day we don't have to run after another _beng.*"_

Hogan listened but his brain could not come up with any words to respond. He had been working undercover long enough to understand the suffering of these people. He had heard about it and seen the horrors of the war first hand. He also had seen how the Allies refused to talk about it and looked the other way. Whether that was a good strategy on their road to victory, he was not sure. Only time would tell. But in the meantime, people kept dying under the most horrible circumstances. It was almost impossible not to take sides.

"Anton has been hunting those devils for three years. I held hopes in my heart of ending our journey with Dalibor... For a moment, I thought so..."

"Until Newkirk and Carter showed up and altered all your plans," Hogan nodded.

"I'm not superstitious, but I suppose this was written," Milena smiled. She stood up. "I need to put Emil to bed." Hogan followed her inside. The children had gone to bed on mattresses spread on the living room floor. She laid down the toddler and went to the kitchen. She put the kettle on the stove and lit a match. "Some tea, Gov'nor?"

Hogan smiled. "Only Newkirk calls me that. Please, I'm Rob. And yes, tea would be nice."

They sat at a small table. The adjacent room was full of big bags of clothes. "We always leave something behind because we have to travel light. Most it's children's clothes. They grow up so fast." Milena explained. Hogan's eyes spotted a white shirt all stained with blood. "Those are your men's. Their uniforms were... all like that. They had to change."

"Is he badly hurt? Newkirk?"

"I'm afraid yes. Without proper care, any wound can be serious." She sipped her tea. "I helped him as much as I could. I'm so sorry, there's no excuse for how it happened. He was unarmed."

Hogan put aside every thought about Newkirk's being shot. He did not want to get angry at these people. He hated what the war made of everybody... what the war made of him. "I'm very sorry it has to be this way."

"I understand that you, the Allies want to profit from Dalibor's knowledge. Your men are putting their lives at risk for him." She shrugged. "Revenge won't satisfy me. My husband and my children are gone. I'll cry for them till the end of my days. I only hope no one else has to suffer because of this."

"I can't offer you revenge, but the information that man can provide might save many lives." Hogan took his cane and stood up. He was about to resume the search for the motor parts when one of the children came in.

"Johan, why aren't you in bed?" Milena spoke to him in English as a courtesy to Hogan.

"The American gave me something this afternoon," the child said rubbing his eyes with one first. "He told me to count to one million in German before giving it to you. I went to sleep and I forgot I still had it."

"What is it? What did he give you?"

Hogan heard the question and almost laughed. It was so much like Carter to think of something like that. They had just found the wires.

TBC

* * *

_**The Searchers (1956)**_

* _devil_

_At this point you must've realized that I don't know Jack about cars LOL, (can't even drive.) So, let's just pretend that Carter does know and took something that it was easily replaceable ;) _

_Chapter X in a couple of__ days... ;)_

_Thank you always for your reviews!  
_


	10. Support Your Local Sergeant

**X _Support Your Local Sergeant _**

Rain and lighting. One hour on that road and all they had seen was rain and lighting. Newkirk kept the car on its lane as much as he could but the darkness ahead made him sleepy. The first miles were an easy straight line, and his eyelids closed involuntarily. Then, his mind drifted away. He shook his head and blinked in a desperate effort to keep alert.

"Hey, luv," he turned to Sabina. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

Sabina barely looked at him. She crossed her arms over the cup-and-ball and stared at the road.

"Come on, lass, talk to me," Newkirk blinked. He was sweating, and dizzy; his breathing was shallow and the tips of his fingers were numbed. He realized his brain was shutting down. "Tell me... Did you have any pets back home...?" He exhaled. "When I was about your age I had a cat... her name was Miranda... I found her... in an alley... near my... near me house..."

Sabina was actually paying attention to the story when she realized that some trees were getting too close.

Carter was asleep with his head against the window. He was dreaming of home. He could feel the early morning drizzle in his face and the sun in his eyes. The green in the mountains served as the canvas for the new flowers. It was always springtime in his dreams. He heard the birds singing and his mother calling him for breakfast...

"Carter!"

Sabina's desperate shout woke him as the car shuddered and shrieked. Within seconds, Carter saw Newkirk falling to one side while the car kept rolling uncontrollably down the road and towards the open field. The sergeant jumped half body over the driver's seat. He reached for the wheel with both hands. He managed to put the vehicle back on the road but he could not slow down.

"Brakes!" He yelled. "Hit the brakes!"

Sabina understood that he was talking to her. She got down on the floor and pressed the pedal with both hands. That gave Carter the chance to pull over to the shoulder of the road and stop completely. He took his time to breathe and loose his shaky hands off the wheel. He sat back for a moment.

"Everybody okay?" He turned to Dalibor. The man was pale but he nodded.

"That was too close, wasn't it?" The man shook his head. "He could've killed us all."

"Shut up," Carter said. "Sabina, you come here." He got out and went to the driver's seat. He pushed Newkirk to the passenger seat.

"I'm fine, I'm fine..." he mumbled. "Need time..."

"Just move." Carter shook his head. "Why do you have to be so difficult?" he whispered. "How do you feel? And don't say you're okay!"

Newkirk managed to straighten up on his seat before his head dropped back. "Fever is coming up again... Sorry."

Carter bit his lower lip. "It's not your fault. We'll take care of you when we get back to-"

"Home... when we get back home." Newkirk interrupted him before he mentioned the Stalag. Carter nodded and smiled. "And it's all right, Andrew... Everything is going just fine..." He slipped slowly to his left side until his head rested on Carter's shoulder.

Carter kept driving, staring frantically at both sides of the road, looking for an exit. "How much longer?" he wondered aloud.

"About half an hour for the exit to Schienbein Stadt," Dalibor answered him. "Are you sure you and your friend are up to finishing this mission? Maybe I should take my chances and run for the border."

"Oh, you wish. They are waiting for you in London and you'd better have something important to say. It'll take you all that you've got to get you off the hook," Carter said.

"Are you forgetting this girl's father? You'll be as good as dead the moment he gets to you."

"Be quiet! I won't talk to you anymore!" Carter tried to put his mind on something else. The road. Newkirk. Sabina. "Don't you worry, Sabina, we'll fix everything before we leave. You'll see your father very soon and everything will be all right."

Sabina smiled. "Thank you, Carter. Is Newkirk all right?"

"He'll be. He needs to rest, that's all." He kept driving with one hand while his right hand went around Newkirk's shoulder. "Hang on, buddy. We're almost there."

"I'd suggest you continue all the way to Freihalleberg. You can take your friend to the hospital there," Dalibor said. "He won't last much longer in Schienbein Stadt."

"Why don't you take a nap or something?" Carter tried to concentrate on the driving. "We don't need you to tell us what to do."

"Listen, I'm only telling you what is obvious. This young man' condition is deteriorating too fast. He's dying-"

"Don't listen to him, Andrew..." Newkirk made an effort to sit up. "He's just trying to find a way out... Bloody bastard... " He rubbed his temple with the talon of his hand. "You're lucky we have our orders... Any other day, I'd give you what you deserve."

"Oh, yes? And what is that? You believe what these filthy gypsies told you? They lie through their teeth..They're just deceivers. They are trying to blame me for something that they brought upon themselves. I wasn't even there."

"Are you denying your participation in the _Einsatzgruppen_?" Newkirk held his breath when the pain pierced his side. "It's in your files."

"I was with the _Ustachi,_ local police. We provided order and support to Hitler's armed forces. They did all the job." Dalibor began to feel uncomfortable with the conversation. "I left them before things got out of control."

"Whatever you say, mate. You were there and did nothing, bloody same thing that if you'd pulled the trigger against those people yerself." He closed his eyes.

"Newkirk, you're exhausting yourself." Carter's concern grew. Dalibor was a bad person but he was not mistaken about Newkirk's condition. "Try to sleep, we still have some road ahead."

"I was just following orders," Dalibor insisted.

"Keep talking, and you'll see how much of a follower I am meself!" Newkirk snapped, whirling around. The sudden movement made his head spin. "Bloody hell."

Carter leaned one hand on Newkirk's shoulder. He could not do much to alleviate his friend's suffering. He knew that they both were scared, that the entire situation was getting way out of hand. But all would be over in a matter of hours. At least, that should bring some kind of relief.

Oo-HH-oO

Kinch came out to the tunnel and saw Corporal Harris keeping watch by the window. Kinch stood behind him and glanced outside.

"How's it going?" He asked.

"He's just completed his third round and he's still going," Harris said.

Kinch spotted Schultz walking backwards, with a candle in his hands and mumbling something. Considering all the mud, the constant rain and occasional thunder, Kinch could not help feeling a little guilty. Sergeant Schultz was a real trooper.

"Our contact at the grocery store says that he spotted Schultz on a scavenger's hunt for black candles and garlic and now he's walking around the Stalag thirteen times. How did you convince him to do all this?" Olsen said.

"We have to be grateful for Schultz. He believes everything that makes a little sense-"

"Here he comes!" Harris said.

Kinch signed for Private Dorian to get a bag from Hogan's office. He scattered its content over the bunks. Then, he opened the door.

"Sergeant, how's everything going?"

Schultz came in breathing heavily. He leaned his rifle on the nearest bunk and sat at the table. Harris offered him a towel.

"It's pouring outside. My candle went out." He finally spoke. "Is it working yet?"

"I think so. No more white guys have disappeared. Olsen and Tucker are still here, see?" The boys nodded from their bunks. Kinch went to LeBeau's bunk and got the red scarf and the beret. "And this just appeared here a few minutes ago."

Schultz got up and took the things in his hands. "Are you sure? These are LeBeau's, aren't they? How did that happened?"

"Harris found them, right?"

Harris glared at Kinch. He barely spoke to the German sergeant and now he had to lie to him. "Oh, yes, well... I just came by and there they were," he shrugged.

"Oh, my..." Schultz smiled. "I forgot the rhyme again... The cat mewed twice?"

(1)"_Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd_" Kinch quoted. " And you know the rest?"

(1)"_Thrice and one, the head pig whin'd,"_

"Hedge, Schultz, the hedge-pig," he nodded. "You still know what to do?"

"Ten more rounds walking backwards around the camp..." Schultz sighed. He got up very slowly and put his helmet on. "I wish there were an easier way."

Dorian came with a match and lit the candle. The sergeant took it in one hand and grabbed his rifle with the other one.

"That's what the captain of the _Demeter_ said, remember?" (2) Kinch saw Schultz to the door.

"Oh, ja, that horrible story you told me... Those poor sailors..." he frowned. "I still don't know how I didn't read about that on the papers."

"Top secret, those things never go public." He virtually pushed the sergeant out. "Remember, not a word to Kommandant Klink. We don't want for him to disappear too, do we?"

"God forbid!" Schultz shook his head. "If he goes, who knows who else they would send in his place."

"You're so right," Kinch closed the door and turned. "That was close." He looked at Dorian. "Make sure to put a piece of clothing on the bunks every half an hour."

Harris shook his head with a grin and went back to his post.

Kinch went to the ladder to continue his watch by the radio.

"Any news from the outside unit?" Olsen asked.

"Nothing after the colonel's order to put the mission on hold. They won't communicate until they get to the rendezvous point and assess the situation. If everything goes according to plan, I'll send a signal to Tinkerbell and Papa Bear will take the operation from there." He shook his head. "Keep an eye on Schultz, we don't need any more distractions."

TBC

* * *

_**Support Your Local Sheriff (1969)**_

_(1)From** Macbeth**, act 4, scene 1. William Shakespeare_

_(2)From **Dracula**, Bram Stoker: **The Demeter: **doomed Russian ship on which Dracula made his way to England. According to the novel, the ship arrived on its own devices and all the crew was missing. Only the captain's body was found tied up to the ship's helm. The captain's log reveals the strange events that took place during the trip._

_Reviews, please :)_  
_Expect next chapter in two days..._


	11. The Rambling Kid

_Did I say two days? Oh, well, I'm sitting at my computer with nothing much to do. So, I thought, why not? It's done anyway. _

**XI. _The Rambling Kid_**

Carter drove into town hoping to find a hospital, or a doctor's office, or anything in between. All his hopes vanished at every corner. Besides being a small village, it was empty. Dalibor had said that this was a ghost town. He was not mistaken. The street lights were dim but they were the only trace of human civilization left. Not a soul was on the streets.

Carter turned to look at Newkirk. His eyes were closed but he was not asleep. Once in a while, he blinked and twisted. He was uncomfortable and maybe in pain. Carter took a deep breath. This was not the time to panic, not yet...

Carter's eyes began to close involuntarily and he almost lost control of the vehicle. He pulled over to one side of what looked to be the main street. Newkirk straightened up and looked through the window.

"Are we there yet?"

"I suppose. I think this is Schienbein Stadt already." Carter kept his voice low. In the back seat, Sabina was asleep. Her black hair hanging in two long braids and the toy cradled in her arms were reminders of the innocence of a little girl that had had to grow up too fast. Next to her, was Dalibor. Carter had found it very easy to hate that man. He felt sorry because, until he met Dalibor, he had thought better of himself. His father had warned him that war changed men... Carter used to believe that he would not allow that to happen. He was not sure about it anymore; not now that he had learned he was capable of hating.

"There's not much to see, is there?" Newkirk shook his head to clear his mind. "What are we looking for, anyway? A good hotel with a bathtub and clean towels?"

"Any place where you can lie down. You look awful." Carter's grin flashed when he turned to Newkirk. "How do you feel? The truth."

"All right, all right." He rubbed his eyes. "I don't want to scare you but I think it's gonna get worse before it gets better."

"Thank you for the warning. I'll try not to panic." He smiled. "Can I ask you something before it gets worse?"

"What about?"

"What shall I do now?"

Newkirk tried not to chuckle. He held his right side with his left hand, breathing unevenly. "You said it, look for shelter. We need a warm place... water and food would be a plus... Electric power is good if the windows are covered." He gasped for air. "At least two rooms, we need to keep Dalibor locked up somewhere... Don't lose time looking for medicine, all right? I'll get by with what we have."

_Which is nothing_, Carter thought. He turned to the back seat and slapped Dalibor's knee. "Hey, man, we're going for a walk." He turned back to Newkirk. "I'll take him with me so you can rest." He saw the girl waking up. "Hi," he smiled. "Would you come here and keep an eye on Newkirk?"

"Do you have your gun with you?" the Englishman asked.

Carter grimaced. "I'm not good with it anyway."

"Carter," Newkirk stared him down until he made sure Carter had the pistol in his belt. "Sorry, Andrew," he mumbled.

"Why?"

"It shouldn't be like this. I was supposed to watch your back..."

Carter patted him on the shoulder. He had no answer to that. He did not feel better than his friend. Things had gone wrong and he was not in the mood to cheer up anyone. "Don't move and try to rest. I'll be back soon."

Sabina slid on the driver's seat. She began to play with the cup-and-ball without paying much attention to Newkirk. He sighed. He knew a _cold shoulder_ when he saw one. She would not talk to him just because he had kidnapped her at gun point and used her as a shield so her father would not shoot at him. Women could be really stubborn sometimes, he thought.

"Are you still mad? I didn't mean to scare you like that, really."

"Dadro is going to kill you both," Sabina said.

"If that makes you happy," Newkirk gave her a sad smile.

"It doesn't make me happy," she grimaced. "But he must be very, very angry. You shouldn't have done that, Newkirk."

"I've got no choice... Carter was about to shoot your daddy." He switched on his seat, trying to find a less painful position.

"Dadro would've shot first. He's very fast."

"Then, he would've hurt Carter. You wouldn't have liked that either, would you?"

"That's how you saved his life then?"

"Or your father's," he shrugged. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, you didn't... I'm all right." Sabina said. "You scared me, though... I'm still mad at you."

"It's all right..." he closed his eyes. "You don't have to understand everything, all right? Be mad a little longer if you need to... Just don't be scared of me, please." His breathing became shallow. "Could we be friends again any time soon?"

"We're friends, Newkirk," she smiled.

Oo-HH-oO

Carter entered one two-story building on the corner. It must have been the police station. It was a small place with two desks, boxes of files everywhere and one cage with a cot. Carter's eyes shone with relief. He and Dalibor lifted the cot out of the cage and put it in the corner next to one of the desks. Carter could not have asked for anything better under the circumstances. There was an exit on the back but was blocked with boxes and old furniture. He would check the second floor later, when they all were settled in.

He tried the lock of the cell. It still worked. The keys were on a hook on the wall next to two pairs of handcuffs.

Dalibor guessed Carter's intentions and stepped backwards. "You're not putting me in there."

"Don't give me trouble. Just get in there so I can lock the door." Carter crossed his arms.

"I haven't done anything to you. I'm not your prisoner."

"Technically, you are. Besides, with all those people after you, I think it'll be safer for all of us to know where to find you at all times."

"I won't run away."

"It's for you own good, okay?"

"Those crazy people put their thoughts in your head. Maybe I should've left on my own."

"Don't get me started with you and those people!" Carter yelled at him as he had never yelled at anyone. "We'll get you on the plane to London at three ten tomorrow. Until then, I don't want to hear another word from you!"

Oo-HH-oO

"They must be here somewhere!" Anton squinted through the window. The rain was not heavy anymore but it was very dark. "They must be driving with the lights off."

"What do we do when we get them, Anton?" Virgil asked. "They won't relinquish Dalibor without putting up a fight."

"Then, we'll give them a fight." Anton shrugged. "It's fine with me. We have better aim than they."

"We can't get involved in another confrontation, Anton. It's too risky. We killed three soldiers already without counting those at the HQ. The police-"

"The hell with the police! We'll get that pig and that's all that matters!"

"How about Sabina? We're coming for her more than for Dalibor, aren't we?"

Anton bit his lower lip. Of course, he wanted his daughter back more than anything. Dalibor had taken everything from him. Now, he was forgetting his most valuable possession. He felt bad.

"The British man is dead. First, I'll get my daughter back and then, he'll die."

Oo-HH-oO

Newkirk showed Sabina one coin before making it disappear in the air. He reached behind her ear to find the same coin. She laughed and then, she repeated the same trick on him.

"Hey, how did you do that?" He smiled.

"One of my uncles was a magician."

"Small world." He took a deep breath and leaned back.

Sabina was concerned. "Are you tired?"

Newkirk shook his head. His mind was blurred to nothing else but pain. He touched his right side and felt it wet. Sabina saw the blood and gasped.

"Newkirk-"

"See that red brick building over there?" He pointed at the corner. "Carter is in there... go get him..."

Newkirk closed his eyes and dropped his head to one side. Sabina did not dare to touch him. She jumped out of the car and ran down the street.

TBC

* * *

_Thank you for your kind reviews. I know you're reading ;) _

_Don't take me too literally if I say that Chapter XII is coming within days. It might mean it's coming in a very near future :)  
_

_**The Rambling Kid (1923)**_


	12. Angel and the Badman

_**Warnings:** Angst ahead. Non-graphic flashback war violence involving children._

**XII._ Angel And The Badman_**

Carter was still trying to convince Dalibor of getting in the cage. It might be a security measure, he said. But the man did not even try to pretend that he was impressed by Carter's authority manners. The sergeant was reaching his boiling point when Sabina came in running.

"Carter," she said under her breath. "N-Newkirk!"

Carter's first impulse was to storm outside but he stopped. He turned to Dalibor and shouted.

"Get in that goddamn cage now!"

Dalibor did not show any reaction at Carter's outburst but he obeyed at once. The sergeant locked the cell and made sure to put the keys in a safe place. He ran outside with Sabina following him very closely.

He got to the car and opened the door on Newkirk's side. He knelt down, frightened beyond reason at Newkirk's stillness when he checked for his pulse. Newkirk was still breathing; some seconds later, he opened his eyes.

"Hey, Newkirk. How are you, buddy?" Carter made an effort to sound casual.

The effort was mutual. "Fine, Andrew... I just dozed a bit..." Newkirk sighed shakily. "Did you- did you find anything?"

"You won't believe it," Carter smiled. "A five-star room. It even has a bed."

Newkirk nodded. That word actually sounded like heaven. "It's cold, innit?"

"You should wear gloves." Carter took Newkirk's hands to chafe them. "Are you in pain?"

"I'm numbed," he said. "Where's Dalibor?"

"Secured, don't you worry about anything. I'll drive us closer to the building, okay?" He got up and signed for Sabina to get in the car too.

She got on the back seat but leaned forward behind Newkirk. She caressed his cheek and turned to Carter. "He is too warm."

"I know, honey. It's been a long trip. He needs to lie down." Carter sighed. He parked the car in front of the jail building. He got out and walked around to Newkirk's side. "All right, put your feet on the ground. I'll do the rest of the work." He gently pulled his friend up. He put his arm around Newkirk's waist and Newkirk's arm around his neck. "Short steps, okay? One foot after the other."

Sabina ran in first to put the cot in order. Then, she went to the bathroom for fresh water. Carter helped Newkirk to sit on the cot.

"Can't stop shaking," Newkirk said while Carter pulled out his boots.

"Me neither," Carter smiled. "Lie down, you may rest now."

"T-The lassie, she needs to eat..." Newkirk shuddered.

"I said I'll take care of everything. Let me check on the wound first." Carter opened Newkirk's shirt. He winced at the sight of soaked, red bandages. "Oh, boy," he whispered.

"What is it?" Newkirk tried to sit up but Carter stopped him with one hand on his chest.

"The wound is still open." He turned around as though looking for something. "We don't have bandages..."

Sabina brought a bowl of water. She sat on the floor next to the cot and gave Carter her handkerchief. "Use this."

Carter smiled at her. "Can you clean up the wound? I'll go outside to look for food and supplies, okay?" He turned to Newkirk. "Newkirk?"

"I'll be all right, go," the Englishman smiled at him and closed his eyes.

Dalibor saw Carter going out in the rain and smirked. "He'll find nothing. This town has been dead for months."

"No one asked for your ruddy opinion," Newkirk said. He clenched his teeth to bite back a scream while Sabina cleaned the wound. He shuddered and she jumped. "It's all right, luv. It has to hurt..."

"You and your friend are fools." Dalibor sat down on the floor of his cell. "You must let me go before her people come. You don't have any idea of what they're capable of."

"Blimey, he keeps talking!" Newkirk turned his face to the cell. "You're the one that doesn't know what _I_ am capable of."

"You're already dead. If that wound doesn't kill you, her father will-"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" He moved so fast that the pain stabbed him mercilessly. "Bloody hell!"

Sabina took Newkirk's hand between hers. "It's all right, it's all right. I'll talk to Dadro, he will not hurt you or Carter. I promise."

Newkirk saw the anguish in her eyes and shook his head. "You shouldn't be here... you should be home... playing with your dolls..." Tears began to roll down her cheeks. Newkirk dried one with his finger. "I should be the one cheering you up." He smiled. "I used to work in a circus, you know?... _The __Amazing Bloomingtons..._ George and Freddie...Freddie was a chimpanzee..." Newkirk was pleased to hear Sabina's giggle. "That's my girl..."

"You wouldn't like these people so much if you knew where they come from-" Dalibor insisted.

"Don't pay attention, he's a bad man," Newkirk told the girl.

"They're crazy, chasing innocent men to avenge a stupid rumor!"

"It's not a rumor!" Sabina shouted at him. She turned to Newkirk. "I was nine, but I remember what happened..."

"Lassie, it's all right..."

"It was Monday morning... I was in class. Someone came to warn my teacher about the _Ustashi_ coming for the Romany children. We were going to hide but it was too late. The men in uniform came and took us outside to the backyard... My teacher whispered to us. She told us to run to the forest behind us and hide..." She gasped. "We did, we ran... Hanna, my best friend took me by the hand and I took Clarissa, the smallest of the class... We ran together... I don't know what happened... I lost Hanna and Clarissa fell behind me... I couldn't go back, bullets were flying everywhere... I had to keep on running..." Sabina's eyes met Newkirk's. "D-Do you know that if you run in zigzag, the bullets don't reach you? Dadro taught me that... I ran and ran... I hid... I saw them shooting." She glared at Dalibor. "I saw him shooting..."

"Sabina... " Newkirk was stricken.

"I wanted to go home... with mamma and my sister and my brother... But everything was on fire... they weren't there anymore..." She broke into tears.

Newkirk pulled her against his chest and stroke her hair. "Shush, it's all right..." He did not know what else to say. He closed his eyes praying for words of wisdom. He began to remember his own childhood back in London... Stormy nights when he and his little sister used to look for shelter in their mom's bed. And how she would sing a lullaby to them...

Oo-HH-oO

Carter walked three blocks up from the police station and three blocks down. He entered four or five places on each street. He found little things such as pieces of fabric in a clothing store that might do for bandages. There was also a bookstore, almost empty except for the old newspapers scattered on the floor. He could use those to cover the windows. The other places did not provide much. Food had expired, medicine was gone. Frustration weighed on his shoulders.

He entered one last place. A grocery store. He walked around and turned to the door empty handed. He was about to leave when he saw a small door almost hidden behind the counter. He had to force it open. Inside, there were several boxes of condensed milk cans. He breathed with relief. At least, they would have some comfort food to pass the time.

He went back with three cans, which he reckoned would be enough to wait till 3 o'clock. The rain had dwindled to a steady drizzle but the thunderstorm was still roaring. He was wet and sad; this thing of making decisions was exhausting. All he wanted was to go back to the Stalag and agree on everything Colonel Hogan said. If he was lucky, they would send him to a another barrack to live a peaceful existence until the end of the war...

Carter put his hand on the doorknob of the police station but did not turn it right away. He could hear Newkirk singing quietly in a dialect that he did not recognize. He peered through the window. Sabina was sitting on the floor with her head on the cot. She seemed asleep. Newkirk caressed her hair absently as he droned:

_Paid ag ofni, dim ond deilen  
Gura, gura ar y ddor;  
Paid ag ofni, ton fach unig  
Sua, sua ar lan y mor;  
Huna blentyn, nid oes yma  
__Ddim i roddi iti fraw;  
__Gwena'n dawel yn fy mynwes  
Ar yr engyl gwynion draw. (1)_

Carter stepped in slowly. Newkirk put one finger to his lips. "She just fell asleep..." he said.

"That song you were singing, sounds nice." Carter put the cans on the desk and shook the water off his coat. "It isn't in German, is it?"

"Welsh... it's an old lullaby me mom used to sing to me and me sister when we were a wee laddie and a wee lassie." He looked at the girl and shook his head. "It's a bloody war, Carter... children should be left out of it..."

"Definitely," Carter agreed. He was not sure what Newkirk was talking about but he did not like the Englishman's gloomy tone. "Are you hungry? Look what I've got." He showed him the condensed milk. "This was my favorite food when I was a kid. How about you?"

"I suppose," he shrugged. "But I'm not quite hungry right now."

"Well, I am. Mr. Dalibor?" Carter opened one can with Newkirk's knife.

"Don't waste it on that git," Newkirk snapped. "That rat may starve for all that I bloody care."

Carter looked at him and then at Dalibor. There was animosity in the air that he had not seen before. He understood that Newkirk must have his motives, though. "This town gives me the creeps, you know? The stores are half empty, very much a mess. And the houses are open, as if people had had to leave in a hurry."

Dalibor snorted and Newkirk glared.

"This is war, young man. They were probably deported." Dalibor stood up and leaned on the bars.

"Deported where?" Carter frowned. He suddenly remembered Anton Havel's story and his stomach turned. "Gosh," he whispered.

Newkirk could have replied to that but Sabina began to wake up at that moment. He shook his head. "Never mind, Carter." He smiled at the girl. "Feeling better, luv?"

She nodded. "Carter!" She got up and went to examine the cans. "Good! I haven't had this since I was little."

"Glad you approve," Carter gave her one can. "It's all yours, enjoy."

They both sat on the desk. Carter saw in her eyes that she had been crying. He also could guess that Newkirk's quiet façade hid more than physical pain. And Dalibor, well, the man was sitting on the floor again, staring at him. If Carter had been superstitious, he would have sworn that he was scrutinizing their minds one by one to play his evil games on them. He shuddered.

TBC

* * *

_**Angel and the Badman (1947)**_

_(1) Suo gan, Welsh lullaby_

_verse III:_

_Do not fear the sound, it's a breeze  
Brushing leaves against the door.  
Do not dread the murmuring seas,  
Lonely waves washing the shore.  
Sleep child mine, there's nothing here,  
While in slumber at my breast,  
Angels smiling, have no fear,  
Holy angels guard your rest. _

_A little corny? Yes, I know but I couldn't help it. I just love that song, and it's Welsh. There are several versions in YouTube, mostly by children (the most famous is from "The Empire of the Sun," sung by Anthony Way; there is another one by Charlotte Church.) But if you want to hear it in a male voice, look up baritone Bryn Terfel, can't get better than that._

_Again, thank you for the reviews, and also for keeping the story in your alerts and your favorites. That's really really encouraging.  
_


	13. Blazing Blades

_**Warning: **Angst and physical pain_

**XIII _Blazing Blade_**

"We'll never catch them in this old truck!" LeBeau protested. "That man is going to kill Newkirk and Carter."

"Stop saying that," Hogan commanded. "I'm driving as fast as I can." He looked at his watch. "Good, we still have six hours to get Dalibor in Schienbein Stadt and catch the plane at three ten."

"But the gypsies are going to kill Newkirk and Carter!"

"LeBeau!" Hogan glared. "They'll be okay, I promise." He tried not to think of them too much or he would lose his concentration. "See if the other truck is still behind us."

LeBeau rolled down the window. "Oue, mon Colonel, they're coming right behind us."

"That Milena is a hell of a good driver." Hogan smiled. "Now, keep your eyes on the road. We can't discard patrols coming this way too."

"Dieu ne le permet pas," LeBeau laughed. "I think that's the only thing missing."

Oo-HH-oO

The Gestapo unit arrived at Lorenz in the middle of the thunderstorm. They studied the place, witnesses and the suspects' MO. They concluded that it must be at least a ten-man operation, well planned and executed to the letter. They prepared weapons and men and went back on the road to follow the leads to the perpetrators.

Oo-HH-oO

Carter's eyes closed involuntarily. His head was heavy and he realized that he had not slept in more than 12 hours. But unplugging from the world was out of the question as long as he had to look after Newkirk and the girl. He would not let any of them out of sight at any moment.

He stood up and walked about. Little Sabina was asleep on the other desk and Newkirk's eyes were closed. He might be sleeping although he looked restless and his breathing was shallow. He could not stop thinking that Newkirk might be dying and that help would not arrive on time to safe him.

Unexpectedly, the Englishman sat up with his eyes wide open. Carter rushed to his side and grabbed him by the shoulders. "You mustn't move, Newkirk. Lie down." He kept his voice calm but there was a hint of desperation pushing to come out.

Newkirk held Carter's arms, struggling to stay awake. "You've got... you've got to go on... Carter... Finish the mission... got... to..."

"I know, I know. There's still time." Carter nodded. "Newkirk, please. You need to lie down."

Sabina raised her head and rubbed the sleep off her eyes. "What's happening?"

"Newkirk's burning up," Carter finally pushed him down. "Would you bring water, please?" He opened Newkirk's shirt. The wound was bleeding in a slow but steady trickle. Carter pressed it with one hand and his friend moaned. "I know it hurts, I'm sorry." He hated to cause him pain.

Sabina came back with a bowl of water. She took a look at the wound and shook her head. "You have to close it up."

"But how? There's nothing to stitch it with," Carter cleaned up the area surrounding the wound. Newkirk tried not to move but his hand clenched involuntarily on Carter's arm. The sergeant stopped and his despair grew. "Newkirk, I have to do this."

"It hurts..." Newkirk panted.

Sabina sat on the floor near to the cot. She thought over the situation and something came to mind. She put her hand on Carter's knee to get his attention. "Virgil's brother got really bad hurt once. We were on the road and Milena had to close his wound with fire."

"What?" Carter shook his head. "What're you talking about?"

"Caut- cauterization..." Newkirk gasped. "You b-burn t-the skin to stop the...bleeding..." He half opened his eyes. "It's not t-that odd..."

"Sounds awfully painful," Carter said. "I don't think we have to do that, do we?" He looked concerned. Inside he knew it might be the only solution.

"It will stop the bleeding, help to fight the infection." Sabina clapped Carter's knee as though giving him strength. "It can be done."

"But it'll hurt like hell," Carter told Newkirk.

"I can take it," Newkirk mumbled. "You can use me knife..."

Carter shook his head. "No, no. I can't." He stood up and walked to the window, suddenly in need of fresh air.

"Come on, Andrew... I'd do it for you," Newkirk propped himself up on his elbows. "It's all right," he smiled faintly. "I won't scream, I promise." He heaved a deep sigh. "Do you want the lass to do it?"

Sabina pushed Newkirk gently on his back and cleaned up more blood from his side. "Carter?" She looked shyly at him. "I think I can."

Carter shook his head. "You're just a child," he said.

"I'll do it," Dalibor came to the bars of his cell and grinned. "I don't mind the screams at all."

"Not this ruddy side of hell!" Newkirk shuddered. "Carter, please..." He blinked. "I don't want to die on you..."

Carter took a deep breath. He walked to the desk where he had left Newkirk's knife. He grabbed it with both hands and closed his eyes. Tears were already forming but he stopped them. He remembered his father telling him how war changed people, how war made people do things that they would not do under normal circumstances... At that time, he had nodded at his father. _I got it,_ he had told him... But until now, his father's words had held no real meaning. He did not want to change, he wanted to go back home _good old Carter. _But that was just the illusion he had fought to keep since he had enlisted. His father had been right all along...

He gave the knife to Sabina. "Wash it thoroughly."

Then, he went to the cot. Newkirk stared at him but neither of them said a word. He reached Carter's hand and smirked. The sergeant blinked and took a deep breath. He nodded firmly.

Sabina ran to the sink in the bathroom and came back as soon as she could. "Now, we need fire," she said.

"Newkirk, you have your lighter." Carter swallowed and almost choked.

The Englishman's hand trembled when he reached for it in his pants pocket. He handed the lighter to Carter. "Until the blade turns blue, all right? Don't wait till it's red..." He instructed him. "Just pretend you're ironing your favorite shirt," he smiled.

"Oh, d'you have to say that? Haven't you see me ironing the colonel's shirts? I've burned them all!" Carter was not kidding but Newkirk laughed anyway.

Dalibor smirked from his cell. "You don't know what you're doing, boy. This is not a job for weak stomachs. The stench of burning flesh will make you sick. And the pain is unbearable. You'll want to stop half way as soon as you see your friend screaming and twitching-"

"Shut up! Just shut your bloody mouth up, you noisy git!" Newkirk rolled on his side to glare at the man. "One more ruddy word from you and I'll take you to hell with me!" The effort caused him pain and he had to lie on his back again. "Blimey!"

Carter sat on the edge of the cot and rubbed Newkirk's arm. "All right, all right. I'll do it now. Just stay alive, please. I wouldn't know what to tell Louie and Kinch if I'd lost you." He even gave him a reassuring smile.

Newkirk exhaled. "How disappointed they would be."

Carter cleaned up the area on Newkirk's side. The quiet moaning and sudden shudder made it clear that lying still would take every ounce of strength that the Englishman had left. Carter looked around.

"Sabina, bring me those handcuffs on the wall." He turned to Newkirk. "Sorry, I need to make sure you won't move at all."

"I promise I won't break them," Newkirk smiled nervously. He did not protest when Carter pulled his arms at head level and cuffed them on the bars at the back of the cot. He just closed his eyes and prepared for the worst.

Carter put the knife above the flame and waited a few seconds. He tested the heat the same way he would do it with an iron. At the touch of one finger, the blade sizzled.

"All right, clench your teeth," he said. He laid down the knife very slowly. Only at that moment did Carter notice how steady his pulse was. Just as it was when he made those volatile combinations of chemicals down in the tunnels.

"Just two seconds, each time," Sabina reminded him.

"Each time?" Carter paled and lifted the knife before it touched the skin. "How many times do I have to do it?"

"Milena did it twice," she said.

"Twice?"

"Carter," Newkirk stared at him. "Just bloody do it."

Carter prepared the blade and proceeded to press it against Newkirk's skin. Sabina sat on the floor at Newkirk's eye level. She put one hand on his cheek to turn his head towards her.

"Do you know that the moon was created after man?" She smiled at him. "In those days there was a woman called Lechikovitza, she was a zhiratzi... a priest."

Newkirk did not feel the blade at first. He was held by the girl's voice and the story she was telling. The pain began after Carter lifted the blade. Newkirk's hands struggled to get free while he hid his face on the pillow. He moaned and groaned but did not scream.

Carter felt short of breath. His jaw trembled and his hands began to shake. He would have thrown the knife far away right there but his inner voice of reason kept him focused. He examined the wound, trying to ignore his friend convulsing in pain. The bleeding had diminished but the wound was still open. He sighed. "One more time." He heated the blade again.

Sabina held Newkirk's head turned towards her and she caressed his hair. "Lechikovitza was the only one able to heal people without pain..." She saw the struggle in Newkirk's eyes and had to force herself not to cry. "Every night... she collected the moon in a tub of water..." She turned to see Carter lifting the blade again.

Spasms of pain hit Newkirk's entire frame. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. His body twisted, trying to get rid of the agonizing torment. His hands pulled violently the handcuffs making all the cot tremble. Carter examined the wound and nodded. He was so exhausted that he could not even smile.

"It's done," he whispered. He opened the handcuffs and laid Newkirk's arms down. He brushed the hair off his friend's forehead and tried to smile. Newkirk half opened his eyes to meet Carter's. "Rest." That was all the sergeant could say. He turned to the girl and pointed at the water. "Cool his face, please and then, sleep a little, okay? I need fresh air."

Sabina watched him as he stood up very slowly. He was too pale and fragile and seemed suddenly old. She feared he might pass out at any time. He headed for the door and turned the lights off before he went out.

Newkirk opened his eyes and moaned. His arms felt heavy as he rubbed some tears from his eyes. He was regaining back control of his body although the pain was still quite bad. "Carter?"

Sabina wiped his face with a wet cloth. "He went outside. You must rest." Her voice trembled as if she were on the verge of tears.

He regarded her for a moment and reached for her hand. Under a heavy shade of exhaustion, he managed to give her his best Newkirk smile and said, "Sabina, luv, what happened with Lechikovitza and the moon?"

The girl smiled again. She wet Newkirk's brow with the cloth. "She used the moonlight water to cure her patients..."

Carter stepped outside. The falling rain looked like sparks under the streetlights. Apart from its pattering on the rooftops, it was peacefully quiet all around. Carter rubbed his hands together but he could not stop them from shaking. He was cold, and suddenly sad. Overwhelmed, he had to sit on the sidewalk for a moment. He hugged his knees and rested his forehead on them. He wanted to cry but he was too tired to do even that...

He did not feel the time until Sabina came to join him.

"Newkirk?" Carter whispered.

"I think he fell asleep," she said. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be in a moment."

"You did very good."

Carter shook his head. "I almost passed out... Boy, I've never been so scared in my whole life. Not even the night before I left my family, you know?" He smiled. "But I knew what I was getting into... I knew I'd have to fight... maybe shoot at the enemy..." He blinked and had to rub his eyes. "But tonight... for a moment I thought... I-I was killing my best friend..."

Sabina patted him on the shoulder. "Carter, you're a good man."

He chuckled. "What about you, girl? Weren't you scared?"

"Very much, I couldn't stop crying."

"That story you told Newkirk helped a lot to keep him calm."

"Milena taught me stories to tell when she cures us. She has to work like this all the time." She hugged Carter's arm and laid her head against it. "We travel so much, I can't make friends out of our group. I think you're my friends now. I don't want to lose you..."

"We are your friends, Sabina. Don't ever forget that." He covered her hands with his and both stayed like that for some time.

TBC

* * *

_**Blazing Bullet (1951)**_

_**Lechikovitza and the **__****__Moon_, a legend. (Roma in Bulgaria and their folklore.)

_Reviews are always appreciated :)  
_


	14. Showdown

**XIV _Showdown_**

Carter finally went back inside. Sabina had gone back to sleep a little earlier and Dalibor seemed lost in his own thoughts. He was grateful for that. At that moment, he did not want to engage in any fruitless argument with that man. He was too exhausted to process all that that happened right away. He would check on Newkirk, just to make sure he was still breathing. One brief glimpse to put his mind at ease and then, he would go back outside.

Newkirk's eyes were closed; his breathing was steady and calm. However, he was still too pale and his skin had a feverish glow. Carter touched Newkirk's forehead just to confirm that it was warm. Before he could withdraw his hand, Newkirk opened his eyes.

"'ello, Carter..." he said under in his breath.

"How do you feel?" Carter whispered. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

Newkirk took time to answer. A simple _all right_ would not satisfy Carter. "Hanging there. Sleepy..." He exhaled and closed his eyes.

"Are you in pain?" Carter knew that Newkirk would not answer that. After a long pause, the sergeant said, "I'm so sorry,"

"Andrew." Newkirk frowned. "You didn't shoot me. It wasn't your fault at all."

"Not for that... but for the pain..." He rubbed his brow and shook his head. "It had to hurt so much."

Newkirk struggled to stay awake. Carter's grim look worried him. "Carter, you saved me life... it was very brave what you did."

"I wasn't brave at all. I wanted to run away."

"Me too, but I was handcuffed," Newkirk said. Then, his eyes met his friend's. "Listen, Andrew... I'm the one who's sorry..."

"For what? You didn't plan for this to happen," Carter said.

"Not that... For having told the colonel that I felt safer with Kinch or LeBeau. I meant it back then, and now I feel awful... You've been more than a good friend to me... LeBeau could've never done what you did tonight... If we make it, it'll be all thanks to you, mate."

"You've got to say _if_ ? We'll be back at the Stalag by next roll call, you'll see." Carter chuckled. "Tomorrow morning, LeBeau will fill you up with herbal tea and chicken soup; Kinch and I will make you company playing cards and Colonel Hogan will make up another story about how you got hurt so Klink excuses you from working in the field for the next two weeks."

"He can confine me in the cooler for one month, I'll sleep through it." Newkirk smiled for the sake of it but he was slowly losing his battle against exhaustion. He put one arm over his eyes and sighed. "There are moments in life when we have to do extraordinary things. Some are good, some are not quite... This was a good one, Carter... Don't feel bad about anything you've done..."

Carter looked at his friend sliding back into consciousness. He wished he could do the same. When they returned to Stalag XIII, he would sleep for one entire week.

Oo-HH-oO

Anton slowed down when they entered the main street. He was prepared to search and turn every corner, find nothing and go back to the road. But just as he was ready to do so, the stolen car appeared parked at the corner at the end of the street, right under one lamp post.

"Amateurs," Virgil snorted. "Now what?"

"We'll crush them," Anton cocked his rifle.

Oo-HH-oO

The clock struck 11. Carter yawned and almost fell off his chair. He had been listening to those bells every hour since they arrived and always caught him out of guard. He checked his own watch. They still had some good four hours to kill. He got up and prepared to make his rounds. Just like in the Western movies, he felt like the sheriff; pistol and all.

The stillness of the night was broken by the motor of a car coming down the street. Carter ran to the window. He could not see clearily the car that had just parked one block from the jail building. But in his guts, he felt it had to be Anton and his men.

"Oh, boy," he said. "How could they come so fast?"

Newkirk woke up first. He sat up, clasping his hand to his right side. "Carter, what's going on?" He groaned as he tried to get on his feet.

Carter ran to stop him. "Go back to bed. I'll take care of this."

"They're here, aren't they?" Newkirk's voice trembled. "You c-can't take them on alone." He looked around. "Where's me pistol?"

"Forget it," Carter grabbed him by one arm. "You're too weak."

Newkirk stumbled as he claimed his arm back. "You can't... you can't face them on your own, Carter." He turned to the desk where Sabina was still asleep. He walked slowly towards her. "Hey, lassie, wake up. Your daddy has come for you." He shook her shoulder gently.

The girl opened her eyes and stared at him. She did not understand at first but then, her eyes opened wide. "He's going to kill you!" She sprung up from her chair.

Anton honked twice before giving his ultimatum. _"Hey, Americans! Come out with my daughter and I'll be generous with you!" _His voice was strong and clear. _"I'll give you a fast and painless death!"_

Dalibor woke up, startled by the shouting. He jumped up when he saw the gun in Carter's hand. "Now what? Are you going to shoot all of them? At least give me a weapon to defend myself."

"Shut up!" Carter yelled. "I can't think with everybody telling me what to do!" He walked towards Newkirk. "Get in bed right now! You are not helping if you faint in the middle of the fight."

"But, Andrew-"

"Not a word. I'm in charge, remember?" He turned to the girl. "Sabina, when I tell you, go out. Anton's come for you. We're not going to fight over that."

Sabina stood up and shook her head. "I don't want him to kill you, Carter."

The sergeant hesitated as he realized what was going to happen. "So," he faked indifference, "you go out there and tell your daddy not to shoot at us, okay."

The girl walked to the door but turned at the last moment. "Newkirk?"

"Go, luv. We'll see you later," he smiled and sat down on the cot.

Dalibor beat on the bars of his cell with his open hands. "You're both crazy! I don't want to die here like a rat! If you can protect me at least, let me out of here!"

"Carter, give me a gun! Let's give this bloody bastard what he deserves!" Newkirk yelled and stood up. Blinding pain shot through him and he fell on the floor. "Bugger," he said struggling to his knees.

Carter helped him up. "Okay, I'll give you your pistol, but you'd better don't use it unless it's absolutely necessary. Do you hear me?"

Newkirk stared at him with a puzzled look. This was a different Carter, indeed. "All right," he shrugged. "Whatever you say, Andrew."

Anton was about to shout at them again when he saw Sabina coming out. He felt on his knees with opened arms and she rushed into them. His eyes closed to hold back tears as he clasped her tight against his chest. Since the war had taken everything from him, he had not treasured anything or anyone more than this girl. Nothing else mattered but her.

"Are you all right? Did those men hurt you?" He held her face in his hands.

"They wouldn't hurt me." She smiled. "They are my friends." She frowned. "You're not going to hurt them, are you?"

"Just stay in the car, we'll take care of them." Anton kissed her on the forehead and smoothed her hair as he stood up.

"But, Dadro, they're good people, really." She clenched the sleeve of his jacket. "Let's go home, now. Please."

Anton lifted her into the car. "Don't worry about anything, angel. We'll take care of them." Then, he turned towards the building, and a mighty surge of anger swept all the tenderness from his face.

"_Carter! Andrew Carter!" _He thundered. _"My daughter is on your side. She doesn't want us to hurt you! Let's make a deal! Dalibor for your lives!"_

Carter turned from the window. "What do you think?" he asked Newkirk. "Do you believe him?"

"Who bloody gives a damn?" Newkirk said from his bed. "Let's give them the bastard and go back to camp."

"I thought you said that the mission-"

"Sod the mission, Andrew. This bloke is not worth it." He rubbed his forehead and shook his head. Staying awake was taking much of his energy.

Carter sighed. He had to make a decision before things got ugly. They probably would anyway but he should stick to the original plan. "Anton! No deal! We have our orders! Dalibor is coming with us!"

"_I'm sorry, but Dalibor stays. You may leave!"_

"No deal, Mr. Havel. This is a military operation and we have orders-"

"_The hell with the orders! If you want to die, it's your choice!"_

"Do you have to take us with you?" Dalibor insisted. "If you don't mind being shot, go outside and give him what he wants!"

"One more word and you'll get what you're asking for," Newkirk said, aiming his pistol at him.

Carter rushed to his side. "Newkirk! We need him alive, okay?" He was not sure if his friend would actually obey him. The Englishman could be very stubborn at the most awkward moments. If he had decided that Dalibor should die, there was little Carter could do to change his mind.

"What do you want to do?" Newkirk looked at him.

Carter stared at the door and sighed. "Go out there, I guess. Anton needs to know that Dalibor is our prisoner. We can't surrender."

Newkirk knew that it was a bad idea. Outside, Carter would be face to face with Anton and under his own terms.

"_Come out, Americans. Let's talk!"_

Carter opened the door. He walked slowly, hands up and the gun in his belt. His face was pale, but it did not show the fear inside. Besides Anton, there were five other men. They glanced at Carter with their rifles ready. Sabina was in the car, watching nervously through the window. Her eyes met Carter's and both tried a faint smile.

He kept walking until Anton told him to stop.

"I can hear you from here, American. I guess your friend is not as strong as we thought, eh? Where is Dalibor?"

"He's under my custody, Mr. Havel. I can't relinquish him to you just like that." Carter had to make an effort to keep his voice under control. One hint of hesitation and he would lose the little respect that those men seem to have for him. "I'm terribly sorry for we kidnapped your daughter, but we were desperate."

"Don't try to excuse yourselves." Anton growled. "Sabina is a very clever girl. She could have escaped at any time if she had wanted to. I respect her decision to stay with you, children see things in people that we don't." He shrugged. "She's unhurt and even calls you _friends_. That's why I won't kill you right away." He walked towards Carter and straightened up. That made him look taller. He loomed over Carter like a mountain. "For the last time, boy. Give me Dalibor and you and your friend will be free to leave."

Carter's jaw tightened. This was the second person in less than twelve hours that had called him _boy_. He was getting tired of that. "Sorry, I can't do that."

Anton glared at him and nodded. "In that case, there's no more to talk about. Let's him be the winner's prey." He rolled up his sleeves to show a pair of massive forearms, brown and scarred and heavy with rock hard muscle.

Carter's eyes opened wide. He swallow thick, blinked. He would not last ten seconds in a fist fight with that man. Anton's men knew it too, and they laughed and shook their heads. Carter was as good as dead.

"Mr. Havel, sir..." Carter's voice was calm, polite, but firm. "I won't fight you."

"Certainly not," Anton laughed loudly. "I want this to be a fair fight." He reached for the his gun in his belt. "We'll do it as gentlemen. A duel, of course." He turned and went to the middle of the road. He walked several feet up the road and waited.

Carter held his breath. In a fistfight he was at a complete disadvantage, he would be the most likely to get hurt. With guns, his chances of killing the man increased. He did not like that, though. Hurting Anton Havel was not in his to-do list, much _less_ shooting at him in front of his own daughter. His options were limited. He could refuse to fight but then what? Anton and his men would charge against the building, shooting at everything. This time, they might kill Newkirk.

_Boy, where's Colonel Hogan when you need him? _He thought in despair. It would be so great to see him driving down the street and taking control of the situation. He would know how to get out of the problem without anyone getting shot.

Newkirk managed to half walk, half crawl to the window and he was following the events very carefully. Anton's gesticulations were clear enough to understand what was happening. He saw the Romany draw out his gun and he shuddered. This was the second time Carter and Anton had stood face to face and almost under the same circumstances. There was little Newkirk could do to stop the confrontation.

_The cards are on the table, Peter. You'd better get a good hand because it might be the last one... _He held his gun as steady as he could. _Get a hold of yerself, me lad... Don't fail us now..._

TBC

* * *

**_Showdown (1963)_**

_Okay, that's your turn now, drop me a line and tell me how you liked this chapter. :)_


	15. The Wild and the Innocent

**XV. _The Wild and the Inno_cent**

Hogan stopped the truck one block away from the main street and Milena did the same behind him. LeBeau looked at the two men in the middle of the street and gasped.

"Look, Colonel! It's Carter!"

Hogan squinted. It was his man all right. He was holding a gun in his hand. Several feet in front of him, there was the huge man that had stolen Hogan's car back at the farm.

Milena and the other women got out of the other truck. She went to Hogan's door. "That's Anton. If he shoots first, your man will die."

Hogan rolled his eyes. How his men managed to make an epic adventure of every mission they went into, it was totally beyond him. He got out to have a better luck.

"Is this a duel?" LeBeau asked. "He's going to kill Carter!"

"Will everybody stop saying that?" Hogan turned to Milena. "Do you have a weapon with you?"

She took out a pistol but held it against her chest. "Are you going to shoot Anton?"

"I ain't going to shoot anybody, okay? But I'll feel better walking among those guys with a gun my hand." He took the radio out of the truck and gave it to LeBeau. "Stay close."

Milena handed him the pistol. Hogan signed for LeBeau to follow him. "Be quiet, we don't want to make them nervous."

* * *

"Raise that pistol, boy. Didn't your daddy teach you how to shoot?" Anton laughed loudly.

Carter was starting to hate that laugh. He raised the pistol and aimed. He was not too close; this time, it would not be a certain shot. He might miss his target by inches without even trying... And Anton would blow off his head.

Anton raised his gun. Carter was a small target. He could aim anywhere and scare the hell out of him. Just the thought of that made him laugh again.

Newkirk observed the body language. If he had calculated the odds correctly, the man would shoot after Carter. Provided that the sergeant missed the shot miserably. In that case, Anton would be in a position to chose killing or just hurting Carter. Any case of which was completely unacceptable.

Carter did not want to shoot. If he missed, he would die. If he did not miss, Anton would be badly hurt... or die. He did not want to hurt that man in front of his child. He was loud and overbearing, and had a mean attitude but those were not good reasons to kill him. On the other hand, he did not want to die.

Anton stared at Carter, trying to guess what his next move would be. The young man was shy and sort of clumsy, shaky but for all of that, he had shown remarkable guts all through their confrontation. It would be a pity to kill him.

Newkirk kept his eyes on both men's hands. They were now aiming at each other and ready to shoot. There was no turning point. Who would go first? Newkirk had to make a guess. He raised his gun and aimed. His brow was beaded with sweat and his hand shook slightly. He cursed under his breath.

"What's going on out there? What do you think you're doing?" Dalibor grinned. "If you shoot they'll come after us! If you don't shoot yourself first, that is. Can't you see you're about to faint?"

The sound of that hated voice hit Newkirk like an electric charge. His jaw clenched and his grip on the gun tightened. It took a lot of him not to turn and put a bullet into the man in the cage.

"Not now, Dalibor," Newkirk did not move. He stared at the action on the street. His pulse was as steady as it could be and his sight cleared just at the right moment.

* * *

Hogan could not run and LeBeau did not dare to leave him behind. They were coming right in front of the group of men when a clap of thunder echoed the sound of the shot. LeBeau cried out almost at the same time. Carter began to fall.

"No, No!" LeBeau forgot his injured shoulder as he pushed through the men, who turned around, startled. Hogan came after him, limping as fast as he could.

Carter was sitting in the middle of the street, white faced and with the gun still in his hand. Hogan crouched in front of him and laid one hand on his shoulder.

"Carter?" He said. "It's okay, give me the gun." Hogan took the weapon gently from Carter's limp fingers.

"Didn't mean to... didn't mean to..." Carter mumbled.

"Are you okay, mom ami?"

"He's in shock." Hogan heaved a deep sigh of relief. Carter was not injured at all. Then, he turned to Anton Havel who was standing a few steps away from them.

The man's eyes were fixed on Carter. He was holding his right arm with his left hand and his gun was on the ground. Blood dripped from a flesh wound on his right forearm, just above the wrist. More than rage or hate, Hogan read surprise on his face. The men around them began to whisper. LeBeau could understand one sentence _Anton Havel has been shot_.

"You..." Anton finally spoke. "You shot me."

His voice was neutral. He seemed wrapped with amazement at the improbability of the situation.

"I-I didn't mean to, really," Carter said as Hogan helped him to his feet. "I had no choice... Colonel I-"

"Colonel?" Anton straightened up and glared. "Your men have caused us a lot of trouble."

"And I take full responsibility. They just did what I ordered them to." Hogan remained calm.

Anton shook his head. Then, he laughed and nodded. "This one here is good. I've never been shot in a duel, Colonel. He has my respect." He came and clapped Carter on the back, nearly knocking him down. Then, his expression hardened. "I have to honor my word. Take Dalibor. Your man has just won him for you."

Hogan exhaled in relief. They would not have a chance against all these men if they had decided to take Dalibor with them. LeBeau held Carter's face and kissed him on both cheeks. The victory had never come that easy for them.

"Are you sure, Mr. Havel?" Carter asked.

"Don't ask again, or I may change my mind." Anton turned to his men. "To the trucks! We're leaving!"

Sabina clung to her father's neck and turned to see Carter. She was tearful and not happy at all. "You shot Dadro! You could have kill him!"

Carter was off balance as he dropped his head unable to utter a word.

"*Chey, Chey," said Anton. "It's nothing but a scratch. It was a fair fight, you saw it. These Americans are the good guys. Brave men. He stood for what it's right to him, just like we all must do."

Sabina hide her face against her father's neck and would not look at Carter.

"She'll understand," Anton said to Carter. "She needs time." Then, he looked at Hogan. "By letting you take Dalibor, we're giving up our right to our revenge. Do you understand what that means for us? We're sacrificing our war for yours."

After a long moment, Hogan answered quietly, "There are not more than one war, Anton. And you and your people are in it too. Your loss is beyond repair but by relinquishing this man to us, you might be helping to shorten this bloodshed."

Carter saw both men looking at each other. Whatever Anton Havel saw in Robert Hogan's eyes must have satisfied him, because he nodded and turned to his men.

Hogan, LeBeau and Carter saw the trucks and Anton's car leaving. Although their destination was uncertain, Hogan prayed for a save voyage.

* * *

"What's happening outside? Did you kill Havel?" Dalibor asked clutching the bars.

"No, I missed." Newkirk stood up staggering like drunken man.

"Damn!" Dalibor hit the bars. "You're the worst spies I've ever worked with. Now what? Are you selling me to those hound dogs to save your lives?"

Newkirk threw himself against the bars. He grabbed the man by the neck while putting the pistol against his head. The anger in his eyes was like the lighting in the window. "One word, Dalibor," he said pressing the barrel of his pistol deeper on the man's temple. "Just one bloody word, and no one would get you on time... I don't need a key to open this door and beat you to death... or I could brake your ruddy neck right here... or I could shoot you and blow off your miserable little brain once and for all..." He grinned. "But why bother, right? You're already dead. You think that getting out of this country will erase what you've done? The ghosts will follow you... They will haunt you till the last day of your bloody existence..." He let Dalibor go, so suddenly that the man hit the ground, coughing and shaking.

Dalibor shuddered. The unexpected attack had frightened him; the Englishman seemed mad enough to be dangerous. He crawled to a far corner in his cell and hid his head in his hands.

Newkirk was suddenly out of breath. He could not stop shaking. He looked at the pistol and threw it away from him. He tried to get back to the cot but his energy was gone; one step forward and he fell unconscious on the floor.

Oo-HH-oO

Carter was returning to life little by little. He looked at LeBeau and then at Hogan and laughed shakily. "It's so good to see you, guys. You have no idea what we have been through." He paused. "But, how did you get here? Colonel, your ankle and Louie-"

"We heard rumors about an accident and casualties," LeBeau said. "We got concerned."

"We thought you could need some help." Hogan put the gun in his belt. "I'm glad to see you managed the problems very well."

"I'd wish," Carter brushed his hair with his fingers. "Things got really desperate."

"You'll tell us all about that later. How's Newkirk?" Hogan asked.

"Oh, God, Newkirk." Carter ran to the police station.

Hogan had to forget about his bad foot to keep the pace. He did not like Carter's expression at all and he feared the worst.

LeBeau ran in first. Newkirk was on the floor, his eyes close and his face extremely pale. Hogan knelt down beside him and checked for the pulse on his neck.

"Is he...?" LeBeau whispered.

"His pulse is too weak." Hogan laid his hand on Newkirk's brow and shook his head. "The fever is high." He sent LeBeau for water and asked Carter for a pillow to support Newkirk's head. Hogan turned him around and examined the wound. "What happened here?"

Carter shook his head. "It's a long story, Colonel." He crouched by his friend's side. "He was still bleeding and we didn't have any medical supplies... we had to improvise."

"It's okay. The wound looks fine," Hogan smiled. He splashed Newkirk's face with water. "Hey, Newkirk, wake up. Come on, Peter. Open your eyes."

Newkirk obeyed slowly. He saw Hogan first and frowned. "Colonel? What're you doing here?"

Hogan looked at the others and laughed. "We had the crazy idea that you might be in trouble."

"Charmed," Newkirk chuckled. "After all these years, you still don't know what we're capable of?"

"That's what I told him, but he insisted on coming anyway," LeBeau shrugged. His face could not hide the happiness of seeing his friend awake and alert.

"Louie, me mate," Newkirk stretched out one hand for LeBeau to hold in his.

"Let's get you off the floor." Hogan pulled him up to his feet. "Easy now. Very slowly to the cot." They spread a blanket over him. Newkirk fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

"That's what he needs," LeBeau said. "A lot of rest and his friends watching over him."

Hogan nodded and came to find Carter watching the door. "You don't have to do that, Carter. Take a break," he patted him on the back.

Carter headed for the desk, and just then, he saw the famous wooden toy on the floor. "Oh, no, Sabina forgot this." He picked it up. "Her brother made it for her..."

Hogan could see the sadness clouding Carter's face. He came closer. "You must sleep now. We still have two good hours before going to the airstrip. There's nothing else to do."

LeBeau put the only two chairs against the wall, one facing the other to form a makeshift bed. He improvised a pillow with his coat and called Carter. "Now, you'll try to sleep, ça va?"

Carter took a deep breath and lied down on the chairs, his knees almost touching his chest. He cradled the toy in his arms and tried to put his mind at ease. Hogan stared at him and then at Newkirk; both tired and beaten. He worked with heroes, he had no doubt.

"Colonel, qui est-ce?" LeBeau pointed at the man in the cell.

Hogan walked to the cell. "Vasile Dalibor, I suppose."

Dalibor looked up at him and sighed. "Papa Bear in person, I hope."

"Why is he in a cage?" LeBeau asked.

"Because he's a weasel." Newkirk rolled on one side to see Hogan. "Colonel, I wouldn't turn me back on him if I were you."

"Keep that man away from me!" Dalibor stood up. "I've offered my generous cooperation to the Allies, but I could change my mind."

"And we'd be all sorry," Newkirk shook his head.

"Colonel! This man has been disrespectful and abusive. I'll complain to the appropriate authorities as soon as I get to London."

"Blimey, I'm shaking in me knickers-"

LeBeau sat on the cot and tried to keep him quiet.

"Newkirk, that's enough," Hogan said. Then, he turned to Dalibor and glared. "I don't know how Newkirk learned about you, but I was widely informed about your extracurricular activities in your country. London is not happy about having to negotiate with a man linked to such atrocities. They'll keep on doing research on your files for future reference."

Dalibor sat down and crossed his arms. The environment was getting too hostile for comfort. He would rather be at his own devices. He decided he would stay put and wait for the best opportunity to run away.

The growl of a motor interrupted the peace and quiet of the wee hours. LeBeau ran to the window and swore. "Sacre bleu! Gestapo!"

TBC

* * *

_**The Wild and the Innocent (1959)**_****

**_*Chey: _**_girl_

_There you go... Reviews? :)  
_


	16. Ambush

**XVI_ Ambush_**

Hogan ran to the window. One black car and one truck parked in front of the building. The colonel shook his head. He turned off the lights and crouched down.

"Gestapo indeed, and half the members of Lorenz Police Department." He took his gun in his hand and turned to his men. "How many guns do we have?"

"Les tziganes took mine, remember?" LeBeau said. Hogan reached inside his boot for a small pistol and handed it to him.

"Hey, you asked the lady for a gun. Why didn't you take this one out?" LeBeau asked.

"This tiny pistol against the Romany's machine guns?" Hogan chuckled. "It might be good at a very short range, but size matters, LeBeau."

Newkirk sat up slowly and stretched. "Well, that was unexpected." He reached for his boots and started to put them on.

Hogan stared at him with a frown. "What do you think you're doing?"

"When I got in this bloody war, I promised meself that whatever happened I'd die with me boots on," he shrugged.

"Good policy." The colonel nodded. "Do you have any weapon with you?"

"Carter has me knife and me gun is somewhere over there." He pointed to the opposite wall.

Hogan sent LeBeau to look for it. "Is there a story behind your gun being on the floor?" He saw Newkirk's unreadable expression and knew that he would not get anything else from him. He went on with his roll call. "Carter, where's your gun?"

The sergeant sat up and pretended not to have heard.

"Carter? Your gun."

"Colonel," Carter grimaced. "I don't think I can-"

"Oh, yes you can," the colonel said. "We don't have time for feeling guilty. This is war, Sergeant, and you're in it whether you want it or not."

Carter sighed and took his pistol out of his belt. "You'd better don't put me on the front line. I don't wanna be the first one to start shooting."

"Very well. Then, check this place. The building is empty but the police guys might have left a weapon or two. Some ammo would be great," Hogan said. "Any other request for a better shooting position?"

Newkirk took the gun from LeBeau and tucked it in his belt. He seemed to recover his wits in a rush of new energy when he approached the colonel. "I could go upstairs and take the window."

Hogan hesitated. The Englishman was sweating with the fever and the loss of blood. He was already on his feet but there was no way to know how long this surge would last. Although feeling guilty and selfish, Hogan nodded.

"I can't deny I could use a sniper. Are you up to it?"

"I can fire a few shots, that by the way, it's all I've got in me gun, sir," he said leaning on the wall.

"Carter?"

"Nothing in here, sir. Maybe we can find something on the second floor. I haven't checked that one yet,"

"Agree," Hogan said. "Help Newkirk to get upstairs and stay with him."

Carter took his friend by one arm. They climbed up very slowly, allowing Newkirk to lean on the walls every other step. Carter came behind to prevent him from falling backwards.

"I saw your... little number outside with... Anton..." Newkirk gasped in one of the stops. "T'was great... how proud you must be-"

"Don't wanna talk about that," Carter mumbled giving him one push up the last step.

"Why now? It was amazing... The best gun duel I've ever seen outside a movie..." Newkirk chuckled. "Well, the only one, actually..." He let Carter lead him by the hand to the front window. "The duels I remember were all with sabres... there was one once with broadswords at the circus and I-"

"Could you stop it now? Last thing I wanna talk is about duels, okay?" Carter pushed him down in a corner.

"Sure, mate. Whatever you want," Newkirk said with a frown. He looked through one corner of the window down to the street. "We have a real crowd over there. Those little bastards of Gestapo can deal with gunfights, they have to bring reinforcements to make their own party."

"How many are they?" Carter squinted. It was still dark and the street lamps did not offer much of a light. "Can you take them from here?"

"I see three Gestapo and about six police men." He cocked his gun. "Barely... They will stay out of range for the first two rounds. Just to give us time to say our prayers." He sat back. Carter was pensive as he caressed his pistol. "Andrew, are you all right?"

The sergeant looked at him and shook his head. "Have you ever thought about the last thing you'll do before dying?"

"What?"

"I mean, I just shot a man on the street. A civilian... not an enemy... Is that the last thing I'm going to do on this planet?"

Newkirk winced in pain. "Are you getting philosophical on me now? Carter, the last twelve hours I've been shot, stabbed and burned; not to mention a couple of kicks to me ribs that still hurt. Do you think I'm ready to leave this world? This won't be me last day, no bloody way! And yours neither. There are a lot of things we still have to do around here. War isn't over yet and then, you still have to write your memories-"

"Write my memories," Carter snorted a laugh.

"Sure you will. You've got to write about the interesting people you met during the war." Newkirk stopped and clenched his teeth. Carter lent him his hand to squeeze it through the spasm on his side. "We'll get out of this, Carter... You've got to believe that. Now, go and look for those weapons."

* * *

LeBeau tried his shoulder while holding Hogan's gun. His arm was stiff and weak when he lifted it. "I'll be fine at short range, Colonel."

"Short range is all we have here," Hogan said. He longed for a rifle or one grenade at least. "If I'd have known we were going to engage in combat, I'd have brought my deluxe arsenal." There were voices outside and he turned to see.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" LeBeau said.

"Overall: Shoot first and ask questions later." Hogan sighed. "You do as much as you can, LeBeau."

"I should take his pistol. I have the right to defend myself," Dalibor said.

"If the time comes for that, I'll give you a pistol."

"Colonel, why don't we radio for aerial support?" LeBeau pointed at the radio under the desk.

"I'd have to radio Kinch to radio London to radio RAF and see if there's any plane available. By the time they get here, we all be knocking at the pearly gates in heaven," Hogan said. "Plus, there wouldn't be guarantee that they wouldn't blow us along with our friends outside."

"That would be better than doing nothing. Why don't you open this cell. I'd like to take my chances."

"Dalibor, this is all for you. I can't throw a party without the honor guest, can I?"

The last words were echoed by two shots against the door. Hogan ducked and turned to LeBeau.

"I'm okay!"

"Watch Dalibor!" The colonel rose to fire and ducked. One burst and bullets whistled over his head. "Hey! Those guys are using a machine gun on us!"

* * *

The noise was uncanny after so much silence. Carter looked for shelter behind the wall. He watched Newkirk attentively for any sign of weakening. Taking over was not in his immediate plans. When they stopped firing, he went on checking behind the doors.

"Bloody bastards! They're using a machine gun on us," Newkirk mumbled.

Carter felt the wall resonating on his back. He panic for a second. It had been more than a while since he was engaged in combat. The nature of their job took them usually behind the scenes. Machine guns and grenades were for units in the field. Although he knew that sound, it was rarely directed against them.

"Are they shooting at us? I think they missed." Carter looked around but the bullets seemed to have hit only the outside of the building.

"It's a warning. They want to know what we have to defend ourselves." Newkirk straightened up to peer through the window. He cocked his pistol and aimed.

"Can you get any of them?" Carter raised his pistol, not sure of wanting to open fire.

"One, maybe." Newkirk said. "But, that would only attract their attention towards us. So far, they're guessing where and how many we are." He turned to Carter. "Any luck with the weapons?"

"There's only one more door." Carter crawled to his left and tried the lock. "Newkirk, can you open this one?"

Newkirk made an attempt but he could not even get on his knees. He sat back and shook his head. "This is a good time for plan B, Carter."

"Plan B?" Carter frowned.

Newkirk reached inside his left sock and took out two locking picks. He tossed them to Carter. "Just do as I say."

Carter grinned. "You really don't believe I can do this, do you?"

"Have faith, me lad. It's not as hard as it looks..." He lowered his head for a moment while catching some air. "Put them inside the lock, one above the other... rotate the upper one clockwise and use the other one as a tension wrench... you'll feel it touches something inside, release the tension and you'll hear a click..."

Carter tried several times and sighed. "This is gonna take forever. I can't do this."

"Let's put it this way, whether you do it and we find an arsenal, or you don't and we die. Anyway we'll be like heroes under siege... Like in the Alamo," Newkirk said with a shrug.

"The Alamo?" Carter grimaced.

"Isn't in that one where Daniel Boone lost his furry hat?"

"That was David Crockett." Carter stared at the little pick in his hand when another round of bullets shattered the windows of the first floor. "Jeez! What are they doing?"

"Taking no prisoners, I suppose," Newkirk turned to the window and fired two times and ducked. Shooting whistled over their heads.

Carter went back to the lock and followed the instructions for a couple of minutes. The noise was getting on his nerves but he kept rotating the locking pick until he heard one click. "Oh, my God! Oh, my God, Newkirk I did it! I did it!" He turned with a wide smile. "Look, it's open! Yes! Yes!"

"My word, was I so overenthusiastic when I opened me first lock? I hope not." Newkirk hid his satisfaction with indifference. "Let's see what's in there."

Carter entered and turned on the light. It was a small storeroom with a pile of mattresses, shelves of ammo boxes and several dusty civilian clothes. Carter's recently acquired confidence diminished when he saw that the boxes were all empty. He was on his way out when he spotted something leaning on the wall.

"Newkirk!" His happiness was greater than when he had opened the door a few seconds ago. He took out two shining rifles. "I think they're loaded, half at least."

"All right, Carter," Newkirk smiled. "You're living up to your own legend. I'll take one of those beauties. Give the other one to the colonel. Let's keep the boys busy for a change."

"I'll be right back, Newkirk." Carter ran downstairs.

"Keep your head down, mate." Newkirk felt very sleepy all of a sudden. He had to switch sides deliberately provoking pain. He shuddered but he did not pass out.

* * *

Hogan was more than pleased by the findings upstairs. He could hear Newkirk firing his rifle back and forth as he provided cover to the first floor. He took the rifle and turned back to the shattered window. He fired and the guards outside stepped back a little.

"Sir?" Carter said shyly. "I think I'm ready to use my pistol again."

Hogan nodded proudly. "All right, gentlemen, we need to save as much ammo as possible. Don't shoot until you see the white of their eyes."

"Shall we pray for the cavalry to get us in time, General Custer?" LeBeau chuckled.

Hogan rolled his eyes. Of all the historical names, the Frenchman had to come up with that one...

TBC

* * *

_**Ambush (1950)**_

_Thanks again for your enthusiastic reviews. **  
**_


	17. High Midnight

_**Note to movie lovers:** this chapter is an homage to a great movie called **Beau Geste (the Gary Cooper version).** If you haven't seen any version of it, I must warn you that there are some spoilers including the ending. Again, it might not be relevant but it´s better to give warning before someone complains ;)_

**XVII _High Midnight_**

Carter returned to his post upstairs. The shooting and yelling on his street had stopped and he wondered if the Nazis were preparing to charge already. He was grateful for a pause to regroup. He was still feeling down because of the recent events with the Romany people but he would not allow that to interfere with his performance in the group.

Newkirk was sitting in the same corner where he had left him. His back was against the wall, the rifle was cradled in his arms and his head dropped to one side. His eyes were closed and he looked asleep.

Carter hesitated to shake him up. The corporal did not move and his breathing was so shallow that it was almost imperceptible.

"Newkirk!" he called.

The corporal lifted his head very slowly and winced. "Carter..." he sighed and smiled. "Did I miss roll call again?"

"No, no," Carter sat down next to him. "Are you feeling poorly?" He put an arm around him and allowed his friend to lay his head on his shoulder. Carter could feel through his shirt the warmth irradiating from Newkirk's forehead. "The fever is going up again, Newkirk-"

"Don't tell the colonel, please. He's got a lot on his mind right now..." he mumbled. "I'll be back to meself in a minute... just need to rest..."

Carter could not tell whether Newkirk was asleep or unconscious. He would wait for a couple of minutes before telling Hogan. If Newkirk's condition worsened, there was not much they could do. Outside, the sound of war had been replaced by the sound of thunder.

* * *

Hogan kept watch through the window. The Gestapo unit had parked right in front of the building. The torrential rain seemed to have slowed down the action and that was just in the colonel's favor. His best ideas always came under pressure.

"What time is it, LeBeau?" he asked to break the silence.

"A quarter to one," the Frenchman said. "Aren't we going to be late for the rendezvous?"

"I don't think so," he shrugged. "On foot, the airstrip is about twenty minutes west from here. Less if you take a shortcut through the forest." He kept thinking. "You and Carter could make it on your own. We only need a diversion-"

"Quoi? Us, taking Dalibor? And what about you and Newkirk? You can't stay here with the Boches outside." LeBeau crawled towards Hogan.

"I can't walk without a cane, LeBeau, much less run," Hogan looked at the stairs. "And Newkirk is too weak. You couldn't take care of him and keep watch on Dalibor at the same time. We'll stay to give you some cover."

"I don't like it." LeBeau sat in front of him. "Besides, it's pouring, the road must be muddy, or flooded. We couldn't go cross country with this weather."

"It'll stop soon. What we need now is time. We need to distract our friends outside so you can leave..." His brow wrinkled as a thought struck him. He stood up, keeping away from the window. He looked around at strategic points and then, he grinned. "It's crazy, but it might work."

"Qu'est-ce?"

"LeBeau, have you ever heard of *Beau Geste?"

Oo-HH-oO

Hogan climbed up the stairs two by two. The last step took good revenge on his injured foot, but he was so excited with the ideas forming in his head that he did not mind the pain. There was no time for complaints. If he wanted the plan to be executed perfectly, they had to work out every single detail.

He entered the only office on that floor and found Carter keeping watch over the street and over Newkirk at the same time. The Englishman was lying down on an old mattress on the floor. Hogan crouched next to him and checked for his pulse.

"He collapsed. I was going to tell you but he-"

"-didn't want to bother me, eh?" Hogan shook his head. "Well, it's nothing unexpected. He must be fighting a hell of an infection."

"But I thought that by cauterizing the wound, it'd kill the infection too." Carter left his post to come closer.

"That stops the bleeding; unfortunately the infection needs antibiotics and special care." Hogan touched Newkirk's forehead. "Fever's too high." He stood up and put his mind back on track. "Carter, did you say something about old clothes and mattresses?"

"Well, yeah. There are some in that storeroom. I didn't see them before, they could've come handy." Carter frowned. "I suppose the police officers used it as a changing room and forgot about their clothes when they left. May I ask you why you are interested in them?"

"First, let's take Newkirk downstairs. He needs a proper bed. I'll tell you my plan right away."

Oo-HH-oO

Hogan sat at the desk waiting for his men to ask the questions. After almost three years together, he would have expected them to be used to his elaborated plans. However, once the cards were on the table, they always managed to come up with the _Buts _and_ Hows._

"I don't know, Colonel." LeBeau stopped pacing. "It seems a little too much, don't you think?"

"I like it," Carter said, sitting on the cot. He wiped sweat off Newkirk's forehead and smiled to see him open his eyes. "It was a great movie."

"Bien sûr, only that Colonel Hogan is not Gary Cooper and those men outside will shoot real bullets at us."

"Don't forget the best part of the movie. They all end up dead," Dalibor said, walking up and down in his cell.

"Do you have to be such a spoilsport?" Hogan shook his head.

"How did you stand him for so long?" LeBeau asked Carter.

"He was quiet at first," Carter shrugged.

"LeBeau, all we need is time for you and Carter to leave. That distraction is perfect." Hogan walked to the cot to check on Newkirk. "How're you doing, Corporal?"

Newkirk turned his head to him and grinned. "Can I be Cooper? I mean, since I'm already wounded."

"Très bien, let's say we can do this. It might take us some time to put all the things together. The Boches aren't going to wait outside while we get prepared," LeBeau said.

"That's even easier," Hogan put on his coat and smoothed his German uniform. He took his cane and left the pistol on the desk.

"But, Colonel. What are you doing, sir?" Carter stood up as if to stop him.

"Buying us some time." Hogan headed for the door with his handkerchief in one hand. "You start working, we need to be ready as soon as possible."

"LeBeau!" Carter turned to him.

"What?" LeBeau shook his head. "He's the colonel, if we tried anything, it would be the court martial for us."

"Give the bloke a chance, Andrew. He has never let us down, has he?" Newkirk rested one arm over his eyes. "It's going to be all right... you'll see..."

Oo-HH-oO

Hogan took the Gestapo lieutenant waiting on his car by surprise. At one signal, the soldiers came forward aiming their weapons at the colonel. Hogan smiled and pointed at the insignias on his uniform.

"Obersturmbannführer," he said. ["Lieutenant Colonel, Ruppert Hoganspieth."]

The lieutenant saluted. ["What's going on here? We've come following the suspects of the attack at the Gestapo HQ at Lorenz. What do you know about that?"] He made a sign for his men to lower their weapons.

["Actually, Lieutenant,"] Hogan kept one hand up and the other on his cane. ["I've come to tell you that we're being held hostages inside that building. I've been sent as a messenger carrying a list of demands."]

["Held by whom, Lieutenant Colonel?"]

["Me and Brigadier General Peter Newkermeyer were intercepted on the highway and brought in here when they saw your unit coming behind them."] Hogan's face got serious and his voice, apprehensive. ["They shot at us, the brigadier got seriously wounded. We don't have any medicine or food. These men are desperate and they might kill us if you don't do what they say."]

["How many are they? Underground?"]

["I lost count at twenty-five, maybe thirty..."] he shrugged. ["They call themselves the _United Front of Freedom."]_

["Never heard about them... Must be a new organization."] The lieutenant looked up at the second floor. Two silhouettes moved by the window. ["And what are their demands?"]

["First of all, they gave me permission to ask for medicine. They don't want the brigadier dying on them."]

The lieutenant yelled at the police officers and one came running with a portable first-aid kit. ["This is all we have. It might help for now."] The lieutenant handed it to Hogan. ["Anything else?"]

["Food would be nice."] He leaned on his cane with both hands.

There was movement and rumors among the soldiers. In a matter of minutes, one came up with a paper bag.

["Those are our rations for the day,"] said the lieutenant. ["It's not much, but you won't be there for much longer, I promise."]

["I thank you very much. But I need to ask you to wait until they come up with more demands. I'm talking to them and I believe that I'll be able to convince them to abandon this operation and surrender to you."]

["How much longer do you want us to wait?"] The lieutenant seemed concerned. ["Maybe we can take the brigadier out, if he's that badly hurt."]

["No, no, they'll kill him first if they sense trouble. They are very desperate men. You must stay put and wait for my signal."] Hogan gave him a reassuring smile. ["Give me thirty minutes. I'll take care of everything."]

He was turning back when the lieutenant stopped him.

"Warte!" He secretly handed his gun to him. ["Take this with you."]

["Oh, no, I couldn't... What about you?"] Hogan pushed it back.

["Are you sure? You could use it for protection... But if you think it's not necessary-"]

["Well, if you insist."] Hogan snatched the gun from the lieutenant's hands before he put it away. ["Remember, thirty minutes."]

["I'll keep the time, sir. Heil Hitler!"] He saluted. "Und viel Glück!" _And good luck!_

Hogan responded the salute and turned on his heels. He was still laughing when he came back to the office.

* * *

"I put Digby and John upstairs," Carter said coming downstairs with more pants and shirts. "Do you have more hay? I think I want Beaujolais right in front..."

"Le Major Beaujolais wasn't in the fort, he came later with the relief column... the only thing that we desperately need." LeBeau torn the old mattress and took a handful of hay. He stuffed the last sleeve of another dummy for Carter to put by the windows. "Here, there's another corporal."

"Why is it that they always put the corporals on the front line?" Newkirk was sitting on the cot watching his two friends work.

"Tais-toi! _Silence!_ You should be sleeping." LeBeau walked to the cot to check on Newkirk's temperature. "Your face is too hot. Don't you feel weird?"

"You're the ones making ruddy dummies out of hay and naming them like real people, you tell me who is feeling weirder here," he grinned. Sudden pain threw him on his back again, moaning.

LeBeau spread a blanket over him. "You're pushing yourself too far, mon ami."

"We all are, LeBeau," he whispered. "Blimey, it's been the longest day of me life."

"Yeah, you can say that and it ain't over yet," Carter shook his head. He positioned the dummy and stepped back to appraise his work.

Dalibor came to the bars and laughed. "You're all children. Playing with dolls while the war is out there. You think this stupid prank is going to impress the Gestapo? Maybe I switched to the wrong side after all."

"Where's me gun, LeBeau? Let me get you a more realistic dummy to put on the window." Newkirk's voice trembled with anger.

"I think we have enough now, but I'll keep him in mind." LeBeau clasped Newkirk's shoulder and pushed him down. "Forget about him."

"It's okay, Newkirk. In less than two hours he'll be out of our hands for good." Carter smiled and began to stuff another pair of pants. "Let's put our minds on nicer thoughts."

"D'accord, I'll go first. Wait till I tell Kinch what Carter did tonight. The boys won't believe it," LeBeau laughed. "I should've taken pictures."

"Can we forget that, please? I feel so embarrassed." Carter sighed. "I would've wanted to talk to him; explain our motives but he just wanted to fire his stupid gun. That poor man, I hope his hand is okay. "

"That poor man is bigger than you and me together, and stronger." Newkirk tried to sit up again but LeBeau stopped him. "He could've crushed you with one hand behind his back."

"I know, but he was only defending what he thought was right. And more, Newkirk kidnapped his daughter."

"Newkirk kidnapped that giant's daughter?" LeBeau grinned. "Why? Was she that pretty?"

"That's bloody irrelevant, LeBeau!" Newkirk yelled despite the discomfort. "I didn't kidnap her, I just used her as a shield. And who bloody cares if she was pretty? She's just a child young enough to be my daug- niece!"

Carter laughed. "She didn't care much about ages. You know that her mother wasn't so much older than she is when she married Anton?"

"Now I feel sick," Newkirk fell on his back and pulled the blanket up to his face.

Carter and LeBeau laughed and went back to the dummies. In matter a of fifteen minutes, they had made two more and sat down to wait for Hogan. Carter turned to watch Newkirk's restless sleep every other second as though anticipating something.

"He'll be okay, it's just a little fever," LeBeau reassured him. "We'll be back in the Stalag very soon and we'll take care of him."

"I've tried to help him as much as I could, LeBeau..." Carter whispered. "I've never felt so useless. This is my first shot wound, you know? Newkirk is very tough."

"He's tough and stubborn. " LeBeau heard Newkirk moaning and he turned to the cot. "But above all, you have been keeping him alive, Carter... It's all right, we're together now and things will go easier."

Carter would have liked to believe that. He would have liked to believe that the worst of their ordeal was over. But he would not rest until they were back in the Stalag and far away from that horrible man. Dalibor had put to the test all that was good in them. Carter still did not know how he had managed to go that far to help such an evil soul. He dreaded that in the process, his own spirit had been shattered beyond repair. He also wondered if Newkirk felt the same way he did and how strong he really was to overcome the hatred Dalibor inspired.

The walls vibrated with a clap of thunder and Newkirk woke up with a scream.

TBC

* * *

_**High Noon (1952)**_

_***Beau Geste (1939)**_

_Digby, John, Major Beaujolais, characters of the movie._

_Well, after this one, there are four more chapters. Thank you for your reviews. You're a wonderful group of readers!  
_


	18. True Grit

**XVIII_ True Grit_**

"No! No!" Newkirk struggled to sit up while Carter kept him pinned to the cot.

"Newkirk, listen to me, please." Carter tried to keep his voice down. "It's just a dream. Come on, buddy, wake up."

LeBeau brought a bowl of water to cool off Newkirk's face. The Englishman shuddered and opened his eyes. "Ça va, mon ami?" LeBeau smiled. "You're awake now, n'est pas?"

"Wh-where-" Newkirk panted as his eyes wandered around. "C-Carter?"

"Here," Carter held his hand again, just as he had been doing since Newkirk was shot.

LeBeau breathed with relief to see Newkirk calming down. He turned to the door when Hogan opened it. Now, he felt that things would get better.

"What happened?" Hogan said, walking straight to Newkirk's bedside.

Newkirk rubbed his eyes with the talon of his hands. He inhaled and exhaled deeply before talking. "I had a nightmare..." he said.

"Wanna talk about it'"

Newkirk hesitated but he was too exhausted to deal with anything on his own. "I was back in London... I saw Mavis..."

"Your sister?" Hogan asked.

Carter moved over so Hogan could sit down in his place.

"Men in black uniforms came to the old neighbourhood and t-they kicked everybody out of their houses... mothers with their children... out of their houses..." Newkirk twisted as if the images in his mind caused him enormous pain. "They formed them in lines... and... s-shot them...I-I saw them fall down... in a common grave..." He shuddered. He covered his face with his hands. "Oh, God..."

Hogan laid down one hand on Newkirk's shoulder. No matter how well prepared they were to face the war, it would always come back with more horrors. His only hope was for it to end before it became too much to handle.

"That comes from listening to those fairy tales that gypsy girl told you," Dalibor said.

Newkirk opened his eyes and turned to the cell. He glared. "Ruddy fairy tales indeed... And we all know who the bloody monster is, don't we?" He made an attempt to spring up but Hogan held him down.

"Don't overdo yourself, he's not worth it." Hogan said.

"See? Those spawns get into your mind and make you see things that aren't there. They're a plague, a disease that must be wiped off before it spreads uncontrollably." Dalibor's voice was soft but intense.

Hogan kept Newkirk pinned on the cot with one hand on his shoulder. He could feel the Englishman's muscles tensing under his grip. Were it not that he was injured, Hogan would have probably allowed Newkirk to give Dalibor what he seemed to be asking for.

"Colonel, please..." said Newkirk between his teeth. It was hard to tell if he was trembling with fever or anger.

"I won't let you kill yourself just because of that man."

LeBeau and Carter watched them very closely. The tension in the room was rising to unbearable levels. The Frenchman took a purposeful breath and changed the course of the conversation. "You came back in one piece, Colonel. What did you tell them?" LeBeau sat at the desk looking at the things Hogan had brought.

The colonel's eyes glowed with excitement and relief. They had to go back to business.

"I'll tell you in a minute. First, we need to clean this wound. Carter, open the First-aid kit and see what's in there that might help." Hogan did not take his eyes off Newkirk. The corporal clutched the blanket and shuddered.

"We have bandages, a couple of aspirins, sulfa..."

"Bring everything. LeBeau, we need more water." He looked at Newkirk. "Don't need to tell you-"

"It's going to hurt, yeah." Newkirk nodded resignedly. "That's all I've been getting from people lately."

The Frenchman kept an eye on the window and another on his friends. He would not get closer to avoid any sight of blood. Carter sat on a chair next to the cot with one hand on Newkirk's shoulder.

The colonel rubbed the skin with a wet cloth and then poured some sulfa on Newkirk's wound. "I know that the aspirin might not do much for the pain, but it'll help to take down the fever." He said finishing with the bandages.

"It's all right, thank you, Gov'nor." Newkirk smiled despite the agony.

"Thank the good old Gestapo boys outside. They sent this all up for you, Brigadier."

"Oh, jolly good. I'm touched," he snorted. "Remind me to send those chaps a _thank you_ note when I get back to London."

"How did you manage to make them give you all of this?" Carter said, peering inside the paper bag.

"I told them we were hungry," Hogan shrugged. He looked at the windows and smiled. "You've done a great job with the dummies."

"Oh, yes. By the way, may I have your coat, sir?" Carter asked with a smile. "I'm placing Sergeant Markoff on that corner over there."

Hogan grinned. "I'd be honored." He took his coat off and went to the desk where he had left the bag. "We'll have some of this and then, Carter and LeBeau will rest at least ten minutes. I got us half an hour of truce."

"And then, what?" Carter asked as he stuffed the coat with hay.

"You and LeBeau will sneak out through the back door and run to the airstrip."

"But you and Newkirk-"

"I told LeBeau, we'll hold the fort with our men by the windows." His smile was rather sad. "Those guys need weapons. Do we have a cleaning room with broomsticks and mops?"

"Maybe," LeBeau shrugged. "There's another door by the bathroom that we haven't opened yet."

Carter took Newkirk's lock picks and smiled. "I'll do it." He went to the other room.

"Newkirk, what have you been teaching our boy?" Hogan grinned.

"Blimey, Gov'nor, the lad has a mind of his own." He crossed his arms on the pillow and rested his head on them.

LeBeau stood up. "I think I'll go with him just in case he needs help to kick down the door."

Newkirk waited until the pain subsided a little to sit up. Under any other circumstances, Hogan would have protested but right now, he needed as much as he could get from each one of his men. The Englishman leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment.

"You don't have a plan beyond from what we've done so far, do you?" Newkirk kept his eyes closed.

"I got us food and medicine," Hogan shrugged. "And the sympathies of the Gestapo and Lorenz PD."

Newkirk laughed and shook his head. _"Beau Geste,_ eh? How many times did you see that movie?"

"A couple, and you?"

"Five times..." He opened his eyes and saw Hogan laughing at him. "What can I say? Me girlfriend is mad about Gary Cooper and I had just enlisted... She was really grateful our last night together," Newkirk grinned. "You ain't going to tell me that you went to see Cooper all by yerself, are you?"

"I liked the strategy under desperate situations," Hogan said. Then, he sighed. "And yes, I didn't have a girlfriend but Cooper worked like a charm with my dates... both times."

LeBeau and Carter came back with the broomsticks and placed them on the dummies' arms in the position of rifles.

"That'll do." Hogan was satisfied. He went to the radio transmitter and turned it on. "You two get some rest. I'll call Kinch to confirm the rendezvous with Tinkerbell."

"To confirm it? They know we're coming, don't they?" Newkirk frowned.

"I had to put the operation on hold after the blast at the Gestapo HQ. I needed to make sure that you hadn't been arrested or worse. If I can't give the go ahead within the next ten minutes, our plane will turn around and go back empty handed to London."

Newkirk stared at the colonel as he talked to Kinch. The time seemed going more slowly now that they were closer to their goal. Barely one hour more and it would be all over. He turned to see his friends asleep on the floor, on what was left of the mattresses. A sudden sadness clouded his spirit.

Hogan turned off the radio and looked at Newkirk who was unusually quiet. "What's on your mind?" he asked.

"I don't know, something that Carter said actually...about that you're as good as your last performance." he said.

"I've heard that." Hogan crossed his arms. "Does it bother you that this might be it?"

"No, I think not... If this is me last performance, I'm glad it was in such a good company. And I say it with all me respect and admiration, Gov'nor... sir."

Hogan smiled and nodded. "Same here, Corporal." He turned to his other two men. "At least, they'll have a good shot."

"That makes it all worth it, doesn't it?" Newkirk looked at his watch and exhaled. "It's time, sir."

Hogan crouched down and gently woke up Carter and LeBeau. They did not talk much. LeBeau took one pistol for him and another for Carter. They prepared for the rain and the mud as well as they could and said their goodbyes.

Carter picked up Sabina's toy and hid it in his coat. He did not want to leave. He knew that it might be the last time he would see Hogan and Newkirk alive and that was tearing him apart. But they had to go on with the mission. No matter how, it had to end that day. He went to the cot.

"Newkirk, I suppose I'll see you later, eh?" Carter smirked. "I thought we would go till the end of this together but-"

"Let's not get sentimental, Carter. You've got to finish the mission. Go and do your best, mate."

Newkirk shook hands with him. He said something of the same sort to LeBeau and looked the other way.

Carter took Dalibor out of the cell and they were ready.

Hogan walked them to the back of the office. He helped Carter to remove boxes and other junk piled up against the door. As Hogan expected, the alley was empty. He hugged his men as good friends would do and saw them leave.

When he returned inside, he found Newkirk near the window. He could barely stand up but he had his gun ready.

"They're moving," he said when the colonel was next to him. "I think this is it, then?"

"Seems like it," Hogan said, cocking his gun.

Outside, the Gestapo officers and the police began to take positions. Shadows with shining guns ran around looking for the best place to shoot from. Hogan hoped that they could keep them busy long enough for Carter and LeBeau to get to the airstrip and complete the mission.

"It's been a pleasure to serve under your orders, Colonel." Newkirk smiled. "And I've served under quite a few."

"I know. It's been a pleasure to work with you, Newkirk," said the colonel with a nod. "Let's make this our best performance."

TBC

* * *

_**True Grit (1969)**_

_Sergeant Markoff- character in __**Beau Geste**_

_As always, reviews would be loverly :)**  
**_


	19. The Last Hard Men

_**Warning: **Some strong language ahead ;)_

**XIX_ The Last Hard Men_**

Carter virtually dragged Dalibor along for the first five minutes. He was tired, out of breath, but determined to end the mission one way or another. Dalibor almost stumbled a couple of times before he stopped and refused to go on.

"Come on, we've got no time to lose," said Carter pulling his arm.

"You're trying to kill me!" He panted. "If you're so concerned about the colonel and your other friend, leave me here. I can find my way on my own."

Carter pondered their options. There was nothing else that he wanted to do but go back to help Hogan and Newkirk. Or, at least, he could keep them company till the end.

"Don't even think about it, Carter. We need to get to the airstrip together." LeBeau nursed his hurt shoulder. With all the running, the torn muscles had begun to annoy him again.

"But, Louie," Carter said, "Newkirk and the colonel are alone. If we hurry up, I think we can come back in-"

"Carter, even if we get to the airstrip earlier, we can't leave Dalibor alone. We'll have to wait there till three ten."

"You don't understand. It's Colonel Hogan over there facing, those goons on his own. Newkirk is seriously hurt. They could die without our help," Carter said. "It's two twenty. We can go back, help them out and make it to the airstrip all together. Please, LeBeau, they would do it for us."

LeBeau stared at him, trying to make up his own mind. He wanted to obey Hogan's orders but saving him was more appealing. It was just a matter of timing, and to stay there, just considering their options, was not helping at all.

His heart beat fast as he finally made a decision. "All right, let's go back. But I'll tell him it was all your idea and that you made me do it."

"Sure, we'll talk about that when we all go back to the Stalag." Carter felt his energy coming back and allowed himself to laugh.

Oo-HH-oO

"Achtung! [You have two minutes to release the hostages!"] The lieutenant yelled. ["Throw down your weapons and come out with your hands over your head."]

"That's a generous offer, innit?" Newkirk gasped. He grabbed his rifle and took his place in a corner by the window.

"I don't know if I could throw down my weapon, I'm kind of attached to it," Hogan smiled from the opposite corner. "How're you doing?"

Newkirk shook his head. "One thing's for sure. It ain't gonna be a long fight. Me sight is getting blurred."

"Then, you can forget about waiting to see the white of their eyes." Hogan peered through the window. Two guards set the machine gun on top of the car. One passed the ammo. "It's any minute now."

Just as Hogan finished his sentence, bullets began to rattle on the second floor. Newkirk dodged all the same. One of the dummies fell right in the middle of the street.

"Ouch, poor old Digby," Newkirk winced.

Hogan laughed as the second round took the second dummy down to the ground. "There goes John."

"So much for bloody Beau Geste," said Newkirk with a shrug.

"I honestly thought they would last a little longer." Hogan shook his head. "It worked so well in the movie." He cocked the rifle and shot at the street. The nearest guard got hit.

"There goes another dummy." Newkirk grinned. He rubbed his eyes and aimed. He shot twice and hit the man behind the machine gun.

Hogan nodded. This was Newkirk in a bad day, he could not ask for a better shooting partner.

As soon as the lieutenant saw the dummies, he understood the prank and became furious. He took cover and directed all his men towards the big window on the first floor. Newkirk and Hogan covered their heads as a shower of bullets, shattered glass and plaster flew around them.

Hogan kept an eye on the street and another on his corporal. A sudden fear of surviving his man almost overwhelmed him. He was the commander, if someone had to die in battle it should be him.

"Newkirk!"

After several agonizing seconds, the Englishman found strength to answer. "Still alive! Any requests?"

"Keep yourself alive!" Hogan shot two more times. Another guard hit the ground. "I feel like a sitting duck."

"Not in a better position here, actually," Newkirk shook some debris off his hair. "How many are there left? D'you think we're winning?"

"Hardly. They could keep shooting until the cows come home and beyond."

"What bloody cows are you talking about?" Newkirk chuckled. He fired the last three shots he had and sat back. "Ready, I'm done." He threw the rifle down.

Hogan made his last shot worth the effort and shrugged. "Okay, shall we wait here or invite them in? Because either way-"

Newkirk shushed him. "Do you hear that?"

Hogan shook his head. All that shooting had left his ears ringing. "What?"

"Some roaring... a motor car."

Hogan was used to trust Newkirk's trained ear. If he said there were cars coming, it might be true. "Reinforcements, maybe." He sighed and leaned his head back.

The stillness of the night was nerve wracking. Hogan had been waiting so long for someone to start shooting again that when it happened he was almost caught off guard. He took cover and waited for Newkirk to do the same. Instead, the Englishman stood up.

"Newkirk, what are you doing? Get down!"

"Colonel, don't you hear it?" Newkirk frowned.

"What I hear is more artillery and that scares me." He crawled towards him to pull him down. "No wonder you always get shot!"

Newkirk winced in pain but he was too excited to mind it. He grabbed Hogan's sleeve to drag his attention to the important thing. "You don't understand, they're not shooting at us-"

Machine gun fire interrupted the monotony of the pistols and rifles. For a moment, there was no response as though the Gestapo unit were hesitating to use their own artillery. The pause lasted only a minute while they readjusted their positions. The staccato of some of the weapons made counterpoint with the others and this continued for several minutes.

Hogan had just figured out that the Gestapo had been caught in cross fire. Now, he needed to know who were their unexpected benefactors. "It can't be Carter and LeBeau?"

"With what weapons? Not bloody likely." Newkirk ducked even when the bullets were not directed at them. He grinned. "Think, Colonel. Who else knows we're here..."He had to gasp for air. "The cavalry... or better yet, the Indians, gov'nor... our own Indians."

More exchange of artillery, rifles and one grenade exploding in the street shook the entire building. Hogan laughed.

"I'll be damned, it's the gypsies! They're back!"

* * *

Carter and LeBeau stopped running when they heard the sounds of heavy artillery. Their faces paled at the dreadful thought of their friends being killed.

"Carter?"

"I know, LeBeau..."

Dalibor saw their reaction and laughed. "Who recruited you? You don't have any guts for this job. I should've known that you weren't up to it the minute that gypsy tackled down der Engländer back in Lorenz." He shook his head. "It's obvious that he and your colonel have been gunned down already. I'm turning around. If you look for me, you'll find me at the airstrip waiting for my plane out of here."

Carter aimed his pistol at him. "You stay where you are."

"And what are you going to do?" Dalibor snorted. "Shoot me? You're supposed to take me to that plane anyway."

"Maybe I don't have to anymore." Carter struggled to keep his voice under control.

LeBeau sighed. "He's right, Carter. Colonel Hogan would've wanted us to do so."

"Don't talk as if they were dead." Carter cocked his pistol. "You agreed to come back and help!"

"I know, I know... but now what?" LeBeau shuddered at the sound of more artillery. "Are you going to kill him? That's what we've come this far for?" He could barely recognize his friend. "Everything you've done today, the tziganes, Newkirk getting shot... that matters, Andrew."

"LeBeau... you don't know what this man is capable of."

"I know, Carter. I'm French, remember? I've seen how they work."

Carter turned to his friend. Silent glances spoke faster than words. They were on the same side. "Of course I won't shoot... I haven't changed that much..."

"What do we do? If they're already gone there's no point in getting back, is there? What do we have to do, Carter?"

Carter bit his lower lip. "I came to put this man on the Three ten to London and I'll put him on the Three ten to London even if that's the last thing I do in my life."

LeBeau nodded. "Oui, sounds like a plan to me." He turned to Dalibor. "And you'd better keep your mouth shut or I'll personally call the tziganes on you."

Oo-HH-oO

The shooting was outside, but Hogan would not risk someone hitting them by accident. He looked at Newkirk sitting against the wall, panting with his eyes closed, shuddering at every sudden blast. Hogan turned one of the desks on one side and helped Newkirk to get behind it.

"It'll be over soon," he said putting his arm around Newkirk's shoulder.

"C-can you see what's going on outside... Who's winning?" Newkirk whispered.

"So far, the Romany are doing a pretty good job. They have heavy weapons and explosives." Hogan peered through the window.

Newkirk smiled. "Yes... I saw those back in the old house..." He shivered and lay his head on Hogan's shoulder.

The colonel feared that Newkirk was losing ground but all he could do was keep him closer and awake. "Hey, you're not going to quit now, are you?" He smiled to see him opening his eyes again. "The Gestapo boys are still defending their position as well as they can, though. But I think they've just realized that they're going down."

As abruptly as it had begun, the battle came to an end. Hogan did not dare to move or leave Newkirk. More than a minute went by until he decided that it was safe to walk out. He left Newkirk sitting against the wall with one pistol in his hand.

"I'll be right back to help you to get out, okay?" He looked for his cane and slowly leaped outside.

The sight was not a pleasant one, but as expected nevertheless. The casualties were all on the German side. The Romany walked around picking up weapons and anything else that might be helpful. Hogan saw Anton coming down the street. The man walked with open arms and Hogan anticipated a very effusive bear hug.

"My friend the colonel!" He shouted, still several yards away from Hogan. "We didn't think you'd be still alive. How did you manage to keep them outside?"

Hogan turned to point at the windows. He smiled proudly.

Anton laughed loudly. "Oh, you rascal! Beau Geste! Who would've thought of that!" He patted Hogan on the back with so much energy that it almost sent him sprawling. Even with an injured arm, the man was as strong as a grizzly bear.

"Did you see the movie too, eh?" Hogan managed to stay on his two feet.

"No, but I read the book," he laughed some more. "And your men? Are they all right?"

"I hope so, I sent two of them ahead with Dalibor." Hogan looked at the darkened streets. "I thought you were in a hurry to get out of this country. What made you come back?"

"We saw the Gestapo pigs coming down the road. I hate unfair battles," Anton shrugged. Then, he tilted his head and lowered his voice. "I thought about what you said. You know, being in the same war and all. Maybe you're right. It's about time for us to take one side, besides our own."

"You couldn't have come in a better moment," Hogan said.

"So, it was only you and the dummies defending the fort?"

"Oh, no, Newkirk is still inside." Hogan pointed at the door. "He's in bad shape, though. But we need to meet our men at the airstrip."

"Do you need a ride? We'll give you a ride," Anton shrugged.

Hogan accepted immediately. Although he had his own vehicle, an escort could be a good idea. He went inside to get Newkirk and anything else that could be connected with his men.

Newkirk was already on his feet, although his weakness was evident. He tried to walk on his own as much as he could but he was in too much pain to get far. Hogan, having his own injury to attend, could barely hold Newkirk steady. Luckily, Virgil came to give him a hand.

"I'm glad to see that you haven't died yet," he told Newkirk. He put an arm around his waist and helped him to get in the car.

Hogan took the driver's seat and started the engine. "How're you doing?"

"All right, I guess." Newkirk smiled faintly. He turned to their escort. "What a jolly ride, innit?"

"Why's that?"

"Never rode a wagon train before, sir."

"Two trucks and two cars? We really look like an Old West wagon train, don't we?" He laughed. He put his head out of the window. "All right? Mov'em on!" He waved with his hand and turned to Newkirk. "How was that?"

"Charming, sir, I feel like a ruddy cowboy already," he whispered.

Oo-HH-oO

Carter got up as soon as LeBeau leaned against the tree. Out of an unspoken agreement, they had been taking turns walking up and down. They kept staring at their watches as though they would make time run faster. It was 15 minutes to 3, almost half an hour to the rendezvous. They tried to keep their minds on their task and forget about Newkirk and Hogan. The rain had stopped but there was no dry place to sit down.

Dalibor had everything figured out now. He would not take the plane, he could run through the forest and foil any attempt at recapturing him. He too kept an eye on his watch. Carter and LeBeau might have half an hour ahead, but Dalibor would probably have 15 or 20 minutes. He would seize the first opportunity to run.

Carter stared at the darkness. His ears were attentive to any engine coming their way from above. But his mind was still on that long night's events. He had never thought it would end like this. They had been so careful despite the obstacles. Everything seemed different all of a sudden.

"All and all, it was a good mission, Carter. You must not regret anything." LeBeau whispered. He saw the sergeant's mood and understood his inner turmoil.

"What will happen now?" Carter kept his eyes on the ground. "With the colonel gone... What's going to happen to our operations?"

"I don't know, Carter. We have to go back to the Stalag and have a meeting, I suppose. Maybe they'll send another officer, or close the store altogether." The Frenchman shrugged. "We knew it would come to an end sooner or later."

"But not like this. It should've ended with the war... all of us flying home..."

The sound of distant thunder mixed with the roaring of trucks getting closer. Carter looked up at the skies while LeBeau climbed up a trunk to peer at the road.

"Tonerre! They're coming!"

"I don't see anything," Carter squinted. "There are too many clouds."

"No, Carter," LeBeau turned him around with a push. "Trucks! The tziganes are here!"

"But Havel promised-"

"Maybe they changed their minds," LeBeau said.

"They won't get me alive!" Dalibor sprung up. "You have a duty to protect me!"

One car stopped in front of them. The front lights made it hard to see who was driving. Dalibor did not wait, he took off towards the airstrip. On his flight, he pushed LeBeau against Carter. Newkirk saw them falling and anger overcame exhaustion. He jumped out of the car before Hogan could stop him.

TBC

* * *

_**The last hard men (1976)**_

_If you need to know, some of the dialogues have intentional grammar mistakes. ;)_

_As the song says, now the end is near. I'm finding kind of hard to let it go. This is too much fun! Next chapter comes same time, same channel. Enjoy this one and don't be shy, let me know how you liked it.**  
**_


	20. 3:10 to London

**XX_ 3:10 To London_**

Carter saw Newkirk jumping out of the car and then, the colonel. He got up and ran after them too. Hogan fell behind because of his bad ankle but Carter was already there. Newkirk knew that he would not keep the pace for much longer. He stopped and shot at Dalibor's feet. The bullet hit the ground and some pebbles bounced against his ankle. The man fell heavily on his stomach.

He was still whining about his ankle when he heard a pistol click behind him. He turned and saw Newkirk standing right over him. The Englishman's eyes were cold and inexpressive when he cocked his gun.

Dalibor screamed. "You won't dare! You can't!"

"Can and will are two separate actions. I can tell the difference very well, you know?" Newkirk said.

"Listen, I-I'm not that man anymore! I quit my job after what happened! It wasn't me... I was there, I admit it, but I didn't do it! I was not me! Please, don't!" He curled up on the ground covering his head with his hands. With Carter, he had been lucky. But he was sure that with Newkirk there would not be a place for negotiation. If he wanted to shoot, he would.

Carter came from behind but stopped a few feet away from him. "Newkirk! You... don't want.. to do it."

"Don't I? Give me a good reason not to." Newkirk did not take his eyes off Dalibor.

Carter thought as fast as he could while his breathing caught up with him. "Because..." he panted. "Because if you do it... you won't be better than he is."

Newkirk clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. Slowly, he lowered his gun. He felt Carter and Hogan coming closer. The colonel took the pistol off Newkirk's hand and gave it to Carter. As if on cue, the plane engine rumbled in the sky.

LeBeau appeared with a flashlight to sign clearance for landing. Hogan grabbed Newkirk by one arm just to keep him steady on his feet.

"Carter, take your prisoner to the plane and tell the pilot to stand by."

Carter helped up Dalibor, who was still too shaky to walk on his own. If the man was already scared of Newkirk, this last encounter would remain engraved in his mind for a long time.

Hogan turned to LeBeau. "The radio is in the car, bring it here." He slowly sat down on a fallen trunk and pulled Newkirk's sleeve for him to do the same.

The Englishman did not look at him. He kept his eyes on the ground. After a moment of silence he breathed. "You might think this is the stupidest thing I've done so far," he whispered.

"I remember others," Hogan shrugged. "But you weren't wounded then. So, I could say that there are extenuating circumstances. You've been raving because of the fever." He smiled. "The important thing is that you didn't kill him."

"Yeah, I suppose I can use that in me own defense." He groaned and held his right side with one hand.

"Are you in pain?"

"I won't complain... I brought this on meself."

Hogan clasped Newkirk's arm as though giving him strength against the pain. "Hang on, Newkirk. We'll take you back to the Stalag in a few minutes-"

"And then what? Moving me things out of the barrack?"

The colonel frowned until he remembered his last big conversation with Carter and Newkirk a few nights ago. Then, he laughed. "What makes you think you'll be the one going out?"

"Come on, Guv'nor. We blow up bridges and factories. That's what we do. The team needs its demolition man, and there's no one better than Carter. Me? Well, I'm replaceable... I taught LeBeau to crack safe boxes* and Carter just picked his first lock tonight," Newkirk shrugged. "Besides, I won't be much help for a while. Not to mention that I almost blew the entire operation over there," he said wincing in pain.

"Oh, Newkirk," said Hogan shaking his head.

By then, LeBeau had come back with the radio and Carter was coming back from the plane.

"LeBeau, help me up," Hogan said. "Carter, stay with Newkirk."

Carter sat down next to his friend. For the first time since they had left the Stalag that afternoon, he felt at peace. He had just returned to his own rank, carrying out Colonel Hogan's orders. The weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Newkirk rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and shook his head. He looked on the verge of collapse, hanging by the thread of his own stubbornness.

"Are you mad at me?" Carter asked.

"Why should I?" Newkirk chuckled. "For stopping me before I ruined the mission altogether?"

"I didn't do it for that," Carter said.

"I know," he lowered his eyes. "I'm not sure I would've done the same for you. You wouldn't need me to anyway, you're better than me, Carter."

"Don't say that. You're a good man, Newkirk. One of the best I've known." Carter sighed and shook his head. "Boy, if you'd been in charge of the operation, you wouldn't have engaged in so much trouble. I betrayed everything I believe in. You wouldn't have done the things I did today."

"Andrew..." Newkirk turned to him and laid one hand on his friend's shoulder, "you made miracles today and if that ruddy duel is all that's been buggering you... well, I can tell you..." His breath was short and he felt weak all of a sudden.

"I shot to kill..." Carter mumbled and lowered his eyes.

"What?"

"I looked into his eyes... I knew he would hurt me and I panicked...The whole operation depended on me and I..." He shook his head. "I didn't want to die, I... just didn't know what else to do." He brushed his hair with his fingers. "Then, there occurred to me a thousand other places where I could've shot, but right at that moment, I aimed at his heart." Carter chuckled in a sad way. "Good timing to fail miserably... Newkirk, I don't know what I would've done if I had killed him..."

Newkirk stared at him for a moment. He smiled and nodded. "It's all right, Carter. You must know that what happened there was not your fault. You didn't ask for a gunfight. Anton thought that you would chicken out and you didn't. Blimey, how surprised he must've been when he saw you coming down the street," he laughed. "I always say that what don't kill you makes you stronger... You've just grown up a bit more tonight, Andrew Carter."

"So, I must learn to live with what I did... what I almost did?"

"Carter." Newkirk started to say something but he stopped when he saw Hogan coming back with the radio. He walked towards the Romany and signed for his men to join him.

"Anton, I've been in contact with my people. We've talked and decided that as a token of appreciation for your help in this mission, I'm in a position to offer shelter to the women and children. If it is fine with you, they can fly to London right away."

Anton frowned. One long moment of silence passed before he moved again. He shook his head and looked around at his men. He translated Hogan's words and there were laughs of relief. Anton turned back to Hogan.

"Colonel, you've brought my people back to life." He burst into laughter as he hugged Hogan so hard that he lifted him off the ground.

Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau exchanged glances of satisfaction. They were not just moved but proud to be part of the benefactors. They watched as the men help the five women to put their things on the plane.

"I told the pilot to put Dalibor in the cabin so the children don't have to share the same room with him," Hogan said. "My people in London will see that Dalibor won't get away with what he did to your people."

"You're one of the good guys, Colonel Hogan." Anton tapped him on the shoulder. "You should wear a white hat."

Virgil carried Emil while Johan and Pavel walked next to him. They stopped in front of Carter.

"We will never forget what you've done for us, Carter." Virgil shook his hand. "We'll talk about you for years to come. We'll sing the legend of the man who shot Anton Havel and lived to tell the tale." He laughed.

Carter did not know if that was a compliment or a private joke at his expense. He was just happy to see that at least the children would go away from the war. He crouched down to shake hands with Johan.

"You did a good job, Johan. Thank you for helping me with the wires," he smiled.

"Bye, Carter, I liked the paper boats you made." Pavel smiled shyly .

Carter turned to see him and laughed. "Pavel, you're talking!"

"He began after you left." Virgil said proudly. "He hasn't talked about anything else since then."

Carter hugged the boy. "Be happy, Pavel. Play a lot and have fun."

No more words would be said. Virgil just took his sons and got them on the plane. Milena and Sabina came right after him. Carter hugged Milena.

"Thank you for saving Newkirk," he said. "I'll be in your debt forever."

Milena's smile disappeared when she turned to Newkirk. She was stunned by his condition and wondered how he had managed to get so far on his two feet. "Gadjo-"

"I was not such a good friend... I'm sorry I scared your children," Newkirk said.

Milena stared at him and shook her head. "I should slap you for what you did. But if Sabina didn't mind it much, I suppose we can forgive you." She grinned. "Don't you go close to Anton, though. You're lucky he'll let you go away this time."

"Good for him to have friends on high places, eh?" Carter caressed Sabina's chin. He took the toy out of his coat. "You forgot this."

Sabina pushed it back to him. "Keep it. Remember us." She gave him a hug. "I'm sorry I was mad at you. Dadro says that you're a great man. I love you very much, Carter." She turned to Newkirk and sighed. "Oh, Newkirk-"

"I'm fine, luv. Be better by the minute," said he with a gasp. He struggled to keep his eyes open and his feet firmly on the ground. "You're going to see London, lassie," he smiled.

"I'll see you there when the war is over, you've got to teach me that lullaby," she curled her braid in her fingers. "Latcho Drom, Newkirk."

Newkirk barely nodded. The fever was overwhelming but he just could not take a break. "Te xav ka ta," he said softly.

She threw herself in his arms and made him stumble backwards. She kissed him on both cheeks. Although she kept smiling, her eyes were full of tears. Newkirk lifted her and hugged her for a while. Then, he set her down and kissed the back of her hands.

She was still looking at him when Milena took her by the hand and they walked to the plane.

"She said goodbye, and Newkirk promised to eat at her wedding," LeBeau translated for Carter while drying some tears with his gloves. "That's a nice blessing to say to a young gypsy girl, you know?"

Carter bit his knuckles. "I won't cry," he said.

Hogan went to talk to the pilot; everything was ready to takeoff. They saw the plane go up high and away into the clouds. The Romany applauded at first and then, deep silence came upon them.

"All that I have, all that I am is now on that plane, Gadjo." Anton looked at Hogan.

"I'd have wished to get you all out of here, Anton, I'm sorry." Hogan and the Romany walked towards the vehicles.

"Don't. We would not go anywhere," Anton shrugged. "This war is ours too. We have to fight."

"Where will you go now?"

"Thanks to you, our hearts are safe," he pointed at the sky with his chin. "No one can hurt us. We'll cross the border to France, maybe. We'll join the Maquis. We'll crush those Boches with our bare hands if necessary."

Hogan nodded. "We'll be close if you need us." They shook hands and he turned to his men. "Let's get out of here before the patrols come to this area."

Carter was picking up their equipment when he turned to Newkirk. The Englishman stumbled to his feet. Carter stood up and touched his arm. "Newkirk?"

"I don't feel so good..." Unexpectedly, the Englishman fell down.

LeBeau dropped the flashlights to run towards him. He slapped Newkirk on the cheek but there was no response whatsoever. Hogan came too to check pulse and temperature.

"We have to take him to the car."

That would not be easy with Hogan's strained ankle and LeBeau's dislocated shoulder. But before he could figure out how to transport Newkirk, Anton's big hand, the thick wrist bandaged, slid under the Englishman's back.

Without any effort, the Romany lifted him in his arms. "Where do you want him?"

Hogan smiled. "Our car is parked over there," he pointed at the bushes.

Carter and LeBeau followed them.

Hogan helped Anton to place Newkirk in the back seat. Carter sat on one side to hold his friend's head on his lap.

"He's burning, but he won't give up. What are these British made of, eh?" Anton grinned. "I thought of ripping his head off, you know? But my girl would not talk to me again if I hurt him. You command a true group of heroes, Colonel Hogan."

"Your group is not less impressive, Anton Havel." Hogan shook hands with him. "I hate to see you being dragged into this war so abruptly but I'm glad to have you on our side."

"So good, everything's over," LeBeau said to Carter as he slid in the front seat and relaxed. He watched the colonel still talking to the Romany and shook his head. "Those are good people after all, aren't they?"

"Sure they are," Carter answered absent mindedly. He did not even remember Hogan getting in the car and taking them out of there. He was too concerned, for Newkirk was still unconscious when they came back to Stalag XIII.

TBC

* * *

_**3:10 to Yuma (1959)**_

_***Man in a Box **season 4, episode 14_

_Not the end yet. We still have to take the boys back to Stalag XIII. In the meantime, drop me a line to know your thoughts about this chapter. Thank you ;)  
_


	21. Little Big Man

**XXI_ Little Big Man_**

**_Epilogue  
_**

Kinch welcomed his friends outside the Stalag. With the help of several men, he managed to get the car through the wire fence at the back of the camp. LeBeau set the dogs loose as a diversion for the sentries. They rolled the car to the motor pool sector and covered it with the canvas.

"What happened with Klink's staff car?" Kinch asked.

"You don't want to know." LeBeau rolled his eyes and shook his head. "It was fast, I don't think it suffered much at the end."

"Okay," Kinch sighed. "We'll have to come up with something about that." Suddenly, he grinned. "How do _gremlins _sound to you?"

* * *

"Why hasn't he woken up yet? It's been over two hours." Carter paced back and forth in the radio room where they had Newkirk on one cot. He rubbed his neck and stared at Wilson, the medic of Barrack 4, who was working simultaneously on different things.

"I cleaned up the wound. The infection has been out of control because of the lack of antibiotics." Wilson said. "The cauterization was well performed. It'll leave a scar, but all things considered, you managed to do it perfectly well. You could take over my job around here."

Hogan clapped Carter's shoulder. "It told you so."

"Yeah, but he's still unconscious."

"Carter, even if I were a doctor, I'm working with sticks and stones in this place. I can't diagnose anything beyond the evident. All I can do here is treat the symptoms and hope that will be enough. Maybe the high fever makes him lethargic, he also lost a lot of blood, didn't rest enough, he's dehydrated." Wilson shook his head. "We have to fight the infection to lower down the fever. There is some penicillin to start the treatment but he'll need daily doses for the next two or three weeks at least."

"We'll get it, no problem." Hogan made a mental note. "Do what you can, Wilson. Carter, you need to change those clothes before roll call. Kinch will brief you on the latest events. We'll have to play along for Schultz."

"But, Colonel. Someone has to take care of Newkirk," Carter said.

"There are a lot of volunteers here, don't worry. He won't be alone. You must be beaten too. I said I wanted you two working as a team, but I also want you both healthy and well." Hogan smiled. "Go change, let's play with Schultz and then, you'll go to sleep."

Carter sighed. He was not in the mood for charades. He would have liked to stay in the tunnel with Newkirk. But team work was what kept their secret going on. He would not jeopardize that.

Oo-HH-oO

Hogan, LeBeau and Carter sneaked into Hogan's office before Schultz opened the barrack and yelled for everybody to go outside. The sergeant looked inside, hoping to find the missing men there. The place was empty. He went hesitantly to the courtyard and started counting heads. Before he finished, LeBeau came out of the barrack and took his usual place.

"LeBeau! You're back!" Schultz almost hugged him. "Where are the others? Have you seen them?"

"They're almost here, but you must say: _Come out, come out wherever you are_." He smiled.

Schultz stared at him in disbelief. "You're pulling my hair."

"It's your leg, and no, I'm not pulling your leg." LeBeau glared. "Just say it. Don't you want Colonel Hogan to come back before Klink comes out?"

"Of course I want him back!"

"Then say it! As if you mean it."

Schultz sighed. For the last 12 hours, he had been walking backwards around the Stalag, reciting some ancient enchantment with a black candle in his hands. What else would it take to get the prisoners back? He mumbled resignedly. "_Come out, come out wherever you are..._"

Hogan opened the barrack door and pushed Carter outside. The young sergeant walked reluctantly to his post on the lines.

"Hello, Schultz," he smirked as if nothing had happened.

"Carter! Oh mein Gott! It's working!" He laughed. And repeated the rhyme a third time.

Hogan smiled at him and formed with the others. "So, what's new, Schultz?"

"Colonel Hogan, I'm so glad to see you! Oh, boy! Now Newkirk!" He said the rhyme but nothing happened. He repeated it and began to feel nervous. "Colonel, where is der Engländer?"

Kinch get closer to talk to him in whispers. "We have a problem with Newkirk."

"What problem?"

"It came to me in a dream last night." Kinch cleared his throat. "There is only chance for one more return and it's between Newkirk and Klink's staff car."

Schultz' jaw dropped. "Are you sure they can't come back together? Newkirk could get inside the car and-"

"Sorry, Schultz. It's one or the other."

"Think about it, Sergeant. Who would Klink miss the most, his car or one POW escaped from Stalag Thirteen?" Hogan's eyes narrowed.

Schultz thought about it. "But how would I explain that the car is not here anymore?"

"Tell him it was the gremlins. They reproduce a lot this time of the year and they love mechanic stuff." Kinch grinned.

"I can't tell the kommandant that there are gremlins in the Stalag. He won't believe that in a million years," Schultz said. "I'll need a better story than that, Kinch. Please. A staff car can't disappear just like that."

"All right, Schultz, I'll tell you what," Kinch said. "You report all well in the barracks and I'll see what I can do about Klink's staff car."

"You will? Can you do it?"

"Colonel Hogan is back, isn't he?" Kinch shrugged. "It might take some negotiation but you have to trust me, okay?"

The German sergeant took a few minutes to think about it. Then, he turned on his heels and went to Klink and reported everybody accounted for.

"He's actually lying to Klink?" Hogan chuckled. "How did you train him without LeBeau's strudel?"

"Just a little magic, Colonel." Kinch went back to his post and smiled proudly. "Now, I need a good excuse for the car not to come back."

Hogan stared at the piles of boxes hidden under the canvas and thought for a moment. Then, he grinned and turned to Kinch. "Tell me, do we still have the plates of that car?"

Oo-HH-oO

The rest of the day was embarrassing for Carter. LeBeau had seen to it that everybody in the Stalag knew about Carter's victory in the duel. The story had reached the status of an epic adventure. They talked about a giant and a machine gun. Gypsies armed to their teeth and Carter in the middle of the street firing one small pistol. The sergeant decided to hide from unwanted publicity and went downstairs to stay with Newkirk.

The Englishman was still unconscious. Although his condition had started to concern everybody in the Stalag, it also made him the most likable company at the moment. Carter would pass quiet hours reading Red Cross booklets to Newkirk and pretending he could hear witty remarks from him.

Hogan was not indifferent to his man's sadness. At the first opportunity, he came down to talk to him.

"You know how Newkirk is, he'll wake up when he decides it's time." Hogan sat at the radio console while Carter kept watch on the edge of the cot. "Wilson was impressed by how you took care of everything."

"I was terrified," Carter shook his head. "So many things happening at the same time. And on top of it, I almost ruined everything with that duel, didn't I?"

"Hey, I would've done the same," Hogan shrugged.

"Sure you would've," Carter chuckled. He refreshed Newkirk's forehead with a wet cloth. "Sir? Have you decided who's leaving Barrack Two yet?"

Hogan almost laughed. There it was, that question again. If only they knew that he had not given it a single thought...

"Why? Do you have any suggestions?" He tried to keep a straight face.

"Well, I think Newkirk deserves to stay. He was here first and you need him more than me," Carter sighed. "Anyone can set detonators and make explosives... I guess. But Newkirk does everything else. Forgery, safe cracking, shooting," he shrugged. "Boy if I had half of his skills..."

"I'll keep that in mind..." Hogan tapped him on the back. "I'll send someone to relieve you. You need to sleep too." He did not wait for a reply and went away.

Carter saw the colonel going up the ladder. He was alone with Newkirk again. The Englishman was still feverish and unconscious, although he would move and mumble in his dreams.

"You must wake up, Newkirk. I need you to tell me that I'm being stupid for feeling like this. I know I should give it a rest. It was a lucky shot. Even Anton Havel said so... Why am I the only one that feels bad about it?" He sighed and kept cooling Newkirk's face. He put the gloomy thoughts behind and talked to him about the events of the day.

"...and the other day, Kennedy from Barrack Seven taught me how to play Blackjack-" he said distractedly as he put in order a pile of papers on the radio console.

"That ruddy Irish couldn't tell _Blackjack_ from _Old Maid_..." Newkirk's voice was hoarse but getting stronger.

Carter turned to the cot and held his breath. "Newkirk?"

"It ain't the bloody Duke of Windsor." He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "Blimey! Don't tell me we're back in the tunnels."

"Yes! We are!" Carter came to sit on the edge of the cot. He could not stop smiling. "We came back this morning and-"

"What time is it?"

"Past four."

"I've been sleeping almost two hours?" Newkirk tried to sit up. "Blimey, why didn't you wake me up? I missed roll call, didn't I?"

"Hey, you weren't asleep. It's four o'clock in the afternoon, you've been unconscious for almost twelve hours. We thought you've gone into a coma. You scared us all." Carter did not let him move. "But now, everything's all right. We're all back and things will be all right." He stood up. "Stay right there, I'll bring the others. We'll take you upstairs and you'll feel better."

Oo-HH-oO

With Newkirk back in Barrack 2, things at the Stalag returned to normal. They installed him in Carter's bunk to avoid sudden and painful movement. Hogan did not have to exaggerate when he reported Newkirk's condition to Klink. Of course, he did not elaborate much on the nature of the illness. But was emphatic to say that the corporal would not be able to stand on roll call or walk around any time soon.

"I gave you twenty-four hours, Colonel. Now I want to see the corporal." Klink was prepared for another exchange of useless explanations but he found none.

"Sure." Hogan shrugged. "He's asleep now. The fever left him very weak." He opened the barrack door and entered first.

At the first sight, Klink stepped back and covered his mouth with his handkerchief. The Englishman was too pale and consumed. Dark shades circled his eyes and his skin still had a feverish glow.

"Are you sure he's not longer contagious?"

"I wouldn't be this close if he were," Hogan came to check the temperature. "His skin's rather cool now."

At the touch of Hogan's hand Newkirk shivered and opened his eyes. He looked at Klink first and gasped. "Nanny?" He squinted.

Hogan crouched down and laid his hand on the corporal's shoulder. "Newkirk? Kommandant Klink has come to see how you're doing."

Newkirk smiled faintly. "Of course, I was wondering what me Nanny was doing in me bedroom with Father Christmas." He turned to Schultz. "Hello there, lad."

Klink straightened up. "Colonel Hogan, your man is excused from the next roll call. Make sure he's present for tomorrow morning!" He stepped out.

Schultz could not be happier. "Hey, Newkirk, how do you feel?"

"Beaten, but coming back," he smiled.

"Those gypsies and their curses," he shook his head. "Did they hurt you much?"

Newkirk's face hardened suddenly. For a moment, he could only see Schultz's uniform and feel anger. He had to close his eyes and turn to the wall.

"Newkirk?" Schultz was concerned. "Are you okay?"

Carter turned to see LeBeau and Kinch. After telling them the Romany story, it was easy for them to understand Newkirk's discomfort.

Hogan nodded to Schultz. He sat down on the bunk and touched the corporal's shoulder. "It's okay, Schultz. He's just tired, right Newkirk?"

The Englishman turned to see them and smiled again. "Sorry, about that... The gypsies saved me life, Schultz. They are good people. Please, don't ever forget that." He reached for the German sergeant's hand and squeezed it with the little strength he had left.

"I won't forget." Schultz smiled and nodded. "I'll talk to the kommandant to excuse you for the next five roll calls, all right?"

Newkirk sighed. "That'd be delightful... Thanks."

As soon as he left, Kinch took out one piece of paper for Hogan to read. Then, he reached in their files for one map of the area and spread it on the table. Carter and LeBeau sat down and Newkirk rolled over to see too.

"Dalibor's report confirmed the presence of a clandestine factory of anti aerial artillery in this area." Hogan showed them the coordinates. "Carter, Kinch and LeBeau will take the explosives. Carter, set the detonators for tomorrow at seventeen hundred hours, roughly ten minutes after the last convoy with materials arrives."

"That will be like striking two turkeys with the same slingshot," Carter grinned.

"Well, you must be the one to know, Andrew," Newkirk replied from his bunk.

"You're grounded for this game, Newkirk, stick to your needlework, " Kinch looked up at him and smiled.

Carter was happy just to see Newkirk there after all the times he had thought he had lost him. It would take him still one or two weeks before going back on the field, though. The convalescence period had just begun and it seemed it would be long and tedious for everyone.

"With this job and the one on Klink's staff car, this is gonna look like New Year's Eve," Hogan said.

"Hey, why don't we throw a party tomorrow afternoon?" LeBeau said. "I'll bake a cake, we'll have wine, and Carter will get the fireworks..."

"A party for what?" Carter asked warily.

"We have to celebrate. You completed your first mission. This is the second target this week provided by Dalibor. And it's all because of your-"

"If you mention that infamous duel one more time, LeBeau-"

"Gentlemen, back to the map, please?" Hogan called to order. "Carter will set the explosives and the detonators in the factory and in the motor pool, and we'll have a party. I can ask Klink for real wine. We'll tell them we're celebrating Hitler's birthday."

"It's not his birthday, is it?" Carter frowned.

"No, but we're POW, we lose track of time." Hogan shrugged. "Klink wouldn't deny us a celebration for the Fuhrer."

Oo-HH-oO

_**Next day, back to present time.**_

"Come on, Carter," Newkirk insisted. "It was a good number. You can't deny it."

"But I shot one man. That's not what I do. I'm- was a good person." Carter shook his head. "I don't want to celebrate that; and even when they say it's for Hitler, I know they're doing it for me. I read what LeBeau wrote on the cake: _Way to go, Cart._" He saw Newkirk's stare and he shrugged. "It's a small cake; not much room for the whole name."

Newkirk laughed but stopped when Carter glared. He took a purposeful breath and turned to him.

"All right, Andrew. I was going to take this to me grave, but since I'm still here and you're still moping about, I suppose it's time for you to know the truth."

Carter stared at him and raised an eyebrow. "What truth?"

"The night of the shooting... You were in front of Anton Havel and I was behind you, watching from the jail window. There was a heavy thunderstorm and the lamp posts barely illuminated the street. Remember?"

"As if it was yesterday, but-"

"Let me finish." The pain made him wince. "Anton shouted something at you, you shouted something at him and then... Thunder roared. It sounded like one shot but there were actually two shots that rang out that night. A shot made Anton drop his pistol... mine."

Carter's eyes opened wide. He stared at Newkirk while his mind travelled back in time to that moment. He reviewed the event over and over again. What seemed completely crazy began to make sense.

"No, no way! You were too sick. That's impossible. You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"Well, yeah, but it's also the truth." Newkirk shrugged and felt lighter. "Does it work? D'you actually feel better?"

"No!... Well, a little..." Carter sighed. "So it wasn't me after all." He considered the new development. "Then, you shot and failed?"

"I didn't fail," Newkirk said with a touch of pride. "I never waste me shots. I couldn't kill the man, he's Sabina's father. He's sort of noisy but a good bloke anyway. I saved your neck and his, no harm done."

Carter kept quiet for a moment before his thoughts began to charge his conscience again. "But, the party! Everybody thinks I'm the hero of the story! I didn't win Dalibor for the Allies. It was you!"

"Oh, no. That was you, Carter. I almost killed that wanker, remember? Besides, I'm not going to tell LeBeau to change _Way to go, Cart _to _Way to go, Newk_ on the cake. It was just a lucky shot," he snorted. "Who cares who did it, anyway?"

"I do. This is a lie!" Carter's brow wrinkled with guilt. He squeezed Sabina's toy against his chest. "Oh, Gosh, even Anton Havel thought I shot him. You should've told him-"

"What? I nearly broke his jaw with me pistol when we met, I snatched Dalibor off his hands, I kidnapped his daughter and on top of it, I shot him sneakily," Newkirk said. "If I'd told him about that, he would've broken me neck in two!"

"Well, that's right," Carter conceded. "But how can you live with this, Newkirk?"

"I was only watching your back," Newkirk said. "I can't be sorry about that."

Hogan came out of Klink's office and found his two men sitting outside the recreation hall. "There you are, Newkirk." He took a seat next to him. "Wilson's been looking all over for you."

"Blimey, not again," he whined.

"Don't be a baby, it's just a needle." Carter clapped him on the knee.

"Just a needle?" Newkirk frowned. "That bloody thing is the size of a bottle of milk and the _needle _looks like a spear! It takes one whole minute to empty it down and it hurts just to the last drop. Twice a day for the next bleeding two weeks!"

"But after the treatment, you'll feel like a million bucks," Hogan grinned.

"After the treatment, I won't be able to sit down for a year." Newkirk winced. "I'm bruised all over already. Feel like a ruddy pincushion."

Hogan smiled. Twelve hours of an unconscious Newkirk was more than they could ever bear. It was just good to hear him cursing and complaining again. Then, he glanced at Carter, who sat there brooding again. "Hey, what's with the long face, Sergeant? If it's about someone leaving the barrack, well. I think I overreacted... Both of you are indispensable and irreplaceable. No one is moving out, I promise. "

"You owe me ten quids," Newkirk said to Carter.

"You knew?" Hogan frowned.

"Not exactly... I figured out that you wouldn't have the gu- heart, sir," Newkirk said with an innocent smile. "That you wouldn't have the heart."

Carter shook his head trying to avoid eye contact with the colonel but he gave up. "I can't do this, Newkirk. I have to tell the colonel at least."

Newkirk stared a Carter on his right and Hogan on his left and leaned back so they could see each other. He shrugged. "It's your story, mate."

"Tell me what?" Hogan got concerned. "Carter, tell me you didn't forget the detonators again."

"Oh, no, sir. Those are just fine... I promise. Best fireworks ever." Carter leaned forward to have a better look at Hogan. "It's about the duel of the other night... the one with Anton Ha-"

"I know what duel that is. The only one we've had around here."

"Well, sir. I know that you were there and... sometimes things aren't as they seem... what I mean is that you saw me... and Mr Havel... and a thunderstorm..."

"Carter, I know you didn't hit the man," Hogan said.

Once again, Carter was the only one surprised . "What is it with you people? Don't you think I'm capable of shooting a man?"

"Not without a good reason, I hope." Hogan smiled. "But, I'm sorry. You were way too nervous, your hands were shaking and the light was poor. No way you could hit the man with just one clean shot at that distance."

Newkirk did not react, as if he had seen that coming all along.

"Newkirk, on the other hand, was trained as a shooter by the RAF.* He would hit a feather falling from the sky during a hurricane. Right, Corporal?" He patted him on the knee.

Newkirk snorted. "Hope you'll never ask me to do that, Gov'nor."

"But, but the guys, they think-"

"They don't think anything," Hogan said. "They're celebrating that you two came back in one piece... more or less. That you, Carter managed to complete the mission under adverse circumstances and," he clapped Newkirk's arm, "kept our dearest Englishman alive, all at the same time. Anton Havel admires your courage. You dared to confront him face to face even when the odds were against you. Don't let other things overshadow your accomplishments, Sergeant. I'm proud of you. We're all proud of both of you."

"Please, don't tell me that we deserve a medal for this too. If I don't see those bloody things coming soon, I'll start stealing me own." Newkirk smiled.

"All right, I suppose I can live with what you say, Colonel. But what about Newkirk? He's the real man who shot Anton Havel."

"Almost five, sir," said Kinch, coming out of the recreation hall.

Hogan and Carter stood up to pull Newkirk to his feet. Everybody began to congregate outside, staring at the sunset. Fall was almost over, the rains were few, just as a break before the winter snows. Before the fifth stroke of the clock in Klink's office, a big bang from the clandestine factory shuddered every building in the Stalag.

Seconds later, the pile of junk standing for Klink's staff car blew out under the canvas. Klink rushed out of his office at the very same minute that the plates of the car fell from the sky to his feet. Hogan and Newkirk laughed and congratulated Carter.

"Nice work, Sergeant," Hogan said.

"Smashing timing, mate!"

Everybody cheered and went back to the recreation hall.

Sergeant Schultz dared to give Carter one thumb up. Now, he only had to bear Klink's complaining about the RAF bombers sneaking over the Stalag to destroy his precious car.

"Happy Birthday, Hitler, and many more like this!" LeBeau yelled and turned to Carter. "Come, we still have to sing _For He's a Jolly Good Fellow. _Are you coming too, Colonel?"

"In a minute." Hogan had Newkirk by the arm "I promised Wilson I'd bring Newkirk for his shot and then, make sure he'd stay in bed for the rest of the evening."

"Hold his hand and tell him a story, that'll keep his mind away from the needle." Carter grinned.

"Go to the bleeding party, _Cart,_" the British corporal glared.

Hogan nodded. "It's okay to feel like you do, Carter. That's better than feeling nothing at all. We can't allow the war to change us that much, you know." He turned to him one more time before start walking. "And remember; when the legend becomes fact, print the legend."(1)

Carter frowned as he gave some deep thought to the colonel's words. Then, he heard the last of his explosives on the factory, he saw his friends' looks of relief at one less threat to the Allies' planes, and Newkirk, healing smoothly. Becoming a legend did not seem too high a price all of a sudden...

He turned to enter the recreation hall. Sabina's toy was on the bench. Carter picked it up and smiled. He held the stick vertically, bounced his arm up and down... and the ball fell gracefully into the cup.

IL FINE

* * *

_**Little Big Man (1970)**_

_***The Experts **season 6 episode 2_

_Quote from **The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962)**(but I'm pretty sure they stole it from Colonel Hogan)_

_Well, this is it. I hope it didn't disappointed you at the end. It's been so much fun all the way. Your reviews are the best part of it, I feel more than welcomed in the FF universe. I've got to thank you all for staying with me till the end. I'll be on the back seat for a while, reading and reviewing your exciting stories. My next story is on the making but I'd rather start publishing it after it's already finished. I don't want to give much of it away just yet, but it is going to be more on the supernatural side and see how it goes._

_Again, thank you for reading and reviewing. See you at the Fanfics ;)_

_Sierra...  
_


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